haiku, hands, art... Oh My!

From wind chimes issue 25.


Hal Roth was the editor of wind chimes and became a friend who encouraged me to write. He self published the magazine and sold subscriptions in the little world of American haiku poets that existed in the 1980's mostly consisting of artists, poets and college professors. Some of the presses where associated with universities on that the editors taught most likely literature. My mentor was well respected in this little world and opened doors for me. What I learned was persistence, how to handle rejection, the rewrite and just observing life or allowing life to observe you and catching the moment.





Hidden in a box
autumn leaves
mother pressed
in wax paper
and my longing for home





fog
the road I know
by heart





snowbound
fingerprints
on white walls




I also found a copy of a very nice review of my little book. There were two. One from an editor that was always so hard on me. I was completely surprised. (He was a literature prof., I think)

I was trying to think about the poem I posted yesterday, Recovery, what was on my mind when I wrote it. The hand were me. Although I wrote as if they were another, it was like observing my self... three phases. The bleeding and cut hand was me as I entered recovery. It is a picture of my broken relationships. The second hand being made smooth by the sand is me having my rough edges worn away. I was a rough person when I drank. The third image was when life and warmth began to replace the old and all through the poem images of being in this process on my own and often feeling like I spoke but no one heard. The hand as an image of my being works because of my identity was an artist. I am because I do. I went to the art gallery at Collin College tonight and one of the ladies use the image of hands with the ides of being. I said, "yes" There ya go.