The Bird Man and His Shadow

About the Book

Poems are like stones.

You can admire them uncut, or sculpt them into your dreams of illuminated nights. Like stones, poems can be weapons, too. There are precious stones and precious poems; poems which love to attach themselves to the velvet skin of women. Poems can be like building stones, cast aside or being made into a shrine.

Paul Katona, a native of Hungary shares the sacred gems of his altar with you, and also shows you the stone ax with which he uses to combat his own demons. He invites you too, into his secret garden filled with statues of Greek goddesses, allowing you a glimpse into the depth of the female mystery, cruelty, beauty and sensuality.

He cannot share selectively, but give himself in his entirety. To complete this communion however, you must make a decision to become open, too. Ready? Say yes! And welcome this compassionate, cynical, touching, and challenging world of his collection into your life.

You will emerge with magic, never seen precious stones - they will beautify your world, and will open new doors of perceptions. Some of his poems will appear politically motivated, but closer inspection will reveal that the underlying impetus, as always - is the human condition itself, a condition constantly threatened by various political, commercial, or even religious establishments. The author's Ars Poetica maintains that there exists no subject that can not be written about in a poem.

The capability to recognize, transmute, and integrate any phenomenon into the sacred is the true litmus test of an artist and the decisive question of the artist remains: on what part of the spectrum at any given moment, are we? The world is all inclusive and indefinite in the same time. Poetry, like music, is a sacred language, a higher form of expression. Get ready to remove the dust guards from your own mirror, and rediscover yourself in this sometimes graphic, defining and romantic realm, The Bird Man and His Shadow

About the Author

I was born the second of three sons in 1959 to Iren and Ferenc Katona, both of whom were teachers. At fourteen I began writing poems, mostly as a compensatory activity in response to the overwhelming input received from my environment and the distorted human relations I had witnessed and was a part of. Feeling wary of the Communist regime, I fled Hungary in 1979. My defection and time I spent in an Italian refugee camp proved defining experiences for the rest of my life.

I moved to Chicago where I remained mostly unemployed. With my last two hundred dollars I purchased a one-way ticket to Los Angeles based on a rumor circulated among my fellow Hungarian immigrants that ''In California the sun always shines, it never rains and every apartment building has a swimming pool by law.''

In Los Angeles, I practiced several highly esteemed vocations such as a busboy, janitor, bouncer, cabdriver, plumber, glass man and for one night a car re-possessor. (I decided however, that getting shot at was not worth the pay). Eventually I founded a medium-sized construction company of my own, folk-dancing, drinking and writing on the side.

I also became interested in acting, and auditioned for several acting studios. I found all but one director to be lacking in their conception of true art. Only Rene, the Frenchman from the Open Fist self-funded theater impressed me with his understanding. I became a member of his theater after an audition in which I recited one of my poems (in my native Hungarian tongue) and portrayed a drunkard. Eventually, this wonderful enterprise had to close its doors. The artificial and glamour-oriented Hollywood art scene seems to reject any genuine artistic endeavour that is alien to its own nature.

I am only now beginning to publish my poems for a variety of reasons, including the advice from Andras Fodor, a writer who lives in Transylvania (formerly a Hungarian territory, now Romania.): ''Write only when you absolutely have no other alternative.''

My future plans include becoming involved with film and theater as both a writer and director. I have a ten-year old daughter, Reka, named after the wife of Attila, the Hun.