My Friend Steve Holt

I met Steve Holt several years ago at the Hindman Settlement School's annual poetry workshop, held on the banks of Troublesome Creek in Hindman,Kentucky. Steve'svery first in-workshop writing, a response to my favorite introductory springboard--"That Time"---made me sit up and take notice. Over the course of that week, I came to realize that his was a voice just waiting to blossom. And blossom it has. He has just published his third book, this time with Finishing Line Press, and over the next two days I will be sharing more about him. For today, though, I'm only offering a "teaser,"hoping you will check back in tomorrow for another of his poems and more information about his new book.

Encounter

We came upon a gutted backcountry.
Whittled timber, rutted roads,
Tarpaper shacks.

And light strings of hair in rain,
So slight a girl. Retarded
In her speech, shy.

Down a harpstrung riffle she led us
To a pool hidden under willows
Dripping. Sweet fishing spot.

We gave her a 10-cent French pastry
Sprinkled with coconut, packaged
In cellophane. Store-bought.

-----Stephen Holt