Michael E. Waldecki


Michael E. Waldecki was born in Lorain, Ohio, and attended Lorain County Community College there. He served three years in the U.S.AIR FORCE, at Strategic Air Command Headquarters and two years in the Ohio Air National Guard, where he worked as a computer operator and Telecommunications specialist.

He founded the Black River Poetry Workshop and served as the poetry Editor of the Black River Review from 1986 until 1996. He is interested in theoretical physics, cosmology, photography, and poetry.


  • The Book of Dreams : Poems. (1979)
  • The Child of Woe : [poems] (1980)
  • The Electric : [poems] (1983)
  • In Godzilla Goes to Hollywood. (1985)
  • Mike's Place : Every Monday. (1986)
  • Song for Ground Zero. (1986)
  • The Piano Sickness. (1988)
  • Clams on the March / poetry. (1989)
  • The Neon Cage. (1989)
  • The Return of the Big Swifty. (1989)
  • The Dog Bone Xylophone : For James Tate : Poetry. (1990)
  • Montezuma's Revenge : a Play. (1990)
  • Fragile Anvils : Poetry (1991)
  • Have You Ever Danced in Oklahoma : Poetry (1991)
  • Titanium Tim : Poetry. (1991)
  • Abe Lincoln & the Stragetic Air Command : poetry. (1992)
  • Poems from Minimal Space. (1993)
  • The Wind Always Sings Soprano : for Kat Snider-Blackbird. (1993)
  • Sidewinders and Accolades : Poems. (1994)
  • Prior to the Technocrats. (1996)
  • Properties of Water. (1998)
  • Waldecki Recollected : Poems by an Iconoclastic Surrealist (1998)
  • Tales from the Blind Mule : Selected Poems. (1999)
  • The Silence Is Broken. (2000)
  • In the Village of the Knife Sharpeners. (2001)

Michael E. Waldecki

Poems by Michael Waldecki:

THE SEEKER & The Devil's Moon

Whorls of white, consuming

brilliance smote the night—

I walk the road

in unencumbered steps

to some Destiny, unseen…

A grain of Truth,

my sustenance to sustain

me from abject fear,

encompassed world.

A mountain hurled into a bloody sea—

dead waters, yet I ride

the Wave.

Before me, the flotsam

of the fallen harbingers of war,

who know

they kill for money’s sake

to drink the draughts of power.

O fools, you die in a twinkling,

besmirched by all who know

you fools

gather fabulous wealth & folly,

your graves as shallow as your words.

Yet, when I spoke,

no one heard,

but the red rain…

All were watching

the Signs in the Sky…


Gog & Magog

The frozen, rusted wheels of Justice

have ground to a halt.

The Propaganda Minister preaches Hate

and the monuments rise

from the garbage Empowered

to Rule by deceit & slight-of-hand.

The disarming Leaders;

the People are under the gun:

empty words & weapons.

I grit my teeth as I watch

the parrots on television

reveal the Facts…

I hold a brick in my right hand

and consider my Values

as a face contorts,

a Fairy Tale to believe upon,

it is Given: the Opiate,

as all life goes up in smoke.

His eyes reveal a vacuum

that Truth, alone can fill.

We’re getting sucked-in

to a Nightmare!

I can’t find the knob

to turn him off!

The brick

is a form of commentary

that has found its place…