Poetry. LLANTO TONTO. David Almaleck Wolinsky fronts his claim on us with a self-mocking, euphonious rhyme—a near-antinomy, in an idiom that is neither these poems', nor his own. Well. He could well be another scribbler splashing around for a moment before he drowns in obscurity. He is clearly someone who knows that, but still seeks to draw an "And yet..." from you. Who blindly imagines a "you" will exist.
David Almaleck Wolinsky's non-career found him a novice middle-school teacher for 6 years in the Park Heights ghetto of 1990s Baltimore, and a non-blood grandpa many years later. The "body count" includes three published and four unpublished volumes of poetry, as well as a book of "translations and transformations" from Argentine Nuevo Cancion and it's musical-political cousins. Almaleck' represents his maternal lineage from Al-Andalus, Muslim- ruled Spain, where his Sephardic Jewish ancestors flourished. 1492 is remembered as The Expulsion, at the completion the Catholic reconquista. Queen Isabella brought with her the Inquisition, human bonfires and forced conversions. Fleeing Jews were welcomed by the Ottoman Empire. Among other useful delusions, he believes his activism and volunteer work (and some poems) honor the convivencia of a thousand years ago, as well as today's cries of No Justice, No Peace. David lives with his wife Lilia among the birds and the trees, rocks, rhizomes and other critters, in central Maryland.