I am simply amazed that I was able to accomplish the completion of this work of art while working 8 to 5 in a very demanding job at the University of Iowa. There was an energy, and a sense of purpose that arose the September evening before my mother passed on to the other world…which had nothing to do with our last conversation, and yet, had everything to do with it. The mystery remains, and I am truly thankful that my creative diligence has found a concrete form in this book of poetry. My dream is that the poems will return the reader to a more profound urgency about the Earth and our need to be vigilant, protectors of Her beauty, and Her gifts.
That said, the frigid embrace of a never-ending story of snow and ice in this now Iowa winter has made all of us a bit tense. The need to walk carefully and find ways to secure warmth as we enter in and out of buildings keeps all of us a bit wary and weary at the same time. Yesterday on MLK Day I curled up and read a whole book---something I have not done in a long while. The book was about the author's bad brother who was suddenly killed and who supposedly communicated with her over a span of several months. Lots of cosmic justice and energy plateaus abounded in The Afterlife of Billy Fingers, but the truth is, I wanted to hear more about the earthly Billy, rather than his post-mortem passage to sainthood….our human stories, the measure of our living, this is the great feast!