It’s a simple premise. Each week someone answers The Question.
Kevin Walsh did that for me — and he does that for thousands of others on Google Plus.
I remember first coming across his work with that sinking feeling, Not another faux poet . . .
I wanted to skip by but couldn’t. He riffs off a compelling image he’s found . . . and within the time span of a fruit fly’s flap of the wings you’re off on a tumbleweed adventure of the soul.
I learn more about the free flow of language each time I read a speck of Kevin Walsh’s writing than I do in weeks’ worth of other reading.
He is my living, breathing E.E. Cummings, my modern-era Walt Whitman, my male Mary Oliver living a wilder life than she lived. (Or so I imagine.)
Do yourself a favor and venture onto Google Plus just for his work. Caution: There’s often an elephant involved. But I don’t think they’re ever harmed.
Another thing you should know about Kevin. He doesn’t shy from the shadow side. It’s what gives his work such intricacy. He knows it’s the interplay of light and dark that stitch together a life.
In his work you’re as apt to find brokenness and heartache and discarded loves as you are to find fabulistic yelps of insight that will set your heart afire. He finds life in it all. Childhood, aging, loss, whimsy, meandering . . .
Everyone should have a favorite living poet. Kevin Walsh is mine. Maybe yours too, if you take a peek.
What one thing have you been doing recently that’s making your life better?
by recently….I imagine you mean in this lifetime?
in a word the answer would have to be……changing.
to support the changes from within and while providing the guidance
and listening to the guidance via riddles, clues, wise words, and advice from friends, strangers, and loves ones
sharing this blue and green nest all around us.
yet again. i’m an artist who became a poet that wanted to write a novel and has started.
then I became a student to all around me and a teacher to myself cause I was finally ready to abandon
all those layers of shell I had collected and so proudly displayed as the trappings of former lives I wore like medals
on a general’s uniform.changing…..the only thing a tree understands as it grows both root and branch is to reach higher as it learns to let go of the beautiful foliage it amasses each year.
change……at fifty three or three weeks shy of fifty three my body seems to be doing it all by itself….as if it had a mind of its own…..but my soul, my mind, my heart……they are a bit more reluctant to reshape and transform and so I allow the inner child to take my hand and guide me back into myself to view the ever changing landscape that is life and the carnival it wants to be seen as. now I am a writer, and a painter, a muralist, a sculptor, a poet, a friend, a little boy, a man, a caretaker, and a spirit catching the smell of hot dogs, popcorn, and cotton candy on the wind which calls to me every day if I just keep being open to the changes this life asks me to make…always, in all ways.
Check out Kevin Walsh’s saw art. Homages to those who’ve influenced him mightily.