This is the look of a new author holding his first book. I took this picture of Kevin a few days after his poetry collection, The One Fifteen to Penn Station (CavanKerry Press 2012), arrived at his house. The cover image was taken by his daughter, Michaela.
I've known Kevin for a few years now. We are part of the same writers' group and now we have the same publisher. His work speaks for itself: an authentic, honest voice. In one of his poems he says "a half century feels like a history lesson." Kevin's poems are blessed with the gift of hindsight, told in a crisp, clear narrative style. I just love his work. So happy his poems have a home with CKP.
Check out his book. It's terrific!
Crazy Stuff I hold your hand while you sleep, your swollen fingers squeezing mine. There’s a football game on TV, orange Syracuse jerseys covered in mud the way we saw ourselves playing, rainy days on the side lawn in the fall, while you watched from the kitchen window. You wake for a moment and I ask you how you feel, your eyes fogged and far away, and I remember what we talked about, the doctors, my mother, God. “Do you believe in God?” I asked “Sure,” you said, like why not or who doesn’t, and the few days before that when I told you “I’m sorry for all the crazy stuff, it must have been hard.” You clutch my hand like a frightened, fevered child holding for a breath that might not return, and I am reminded of Lucinda Williams, a Lake Charles country song, and the angel at your ear in those long last moments.