I’m over the moon with the publication of the current issue of Waterwheel Review, which includes my poem “her.story.” An online publication, it features one selection by three writers in each issue.
Carefully curated and beautifully presented, the work is not genred, or labeled. Here’s how they say it: “[W]e don’t categorize by genre. All written art is made of the same substance, and it all returns to the stream. We celebrate what flows by, no matter its form. How to divide water? We want to see what happens when we don’t.
“Waterwheel Review publishes three pieces of writing each month, September through May, with accompanying companion pieces selected or solicited by the editors.”
Those companion pieces they mention can be art or music. They asked me whether I had anything in mind and so, I have a mixed media piece, “and when people see,” as well as the poem.
AND they included a musical companion piece, a video of my Henry playing at Bar LunAtico in New York, his favorite/our favorite local music place. Recorded late in his life, it starts off slowly but if you hang through the first few minutes, you’ll be privileged to witness those lightning-swift hands of his on the keyboard.
“Anyone who has heard Henry Butler over the years knows that he transcends genre. Sophisticated jazz-piano improvisation, soulful blues keyboard work and ferociously intense vocals converge when Butler takes the stage.” —Chicago Tribune
“His musical genius is legendary. Musicians and fans both hail Butler as the next piano superstar.” —All About Jazz
The poem came about in segments, a slow evolution of understanding. It’s a multi-gendered poem that sometimes insists on being female, as it is here, and sometimes male (his.story), as it was when I read it for my dear friend Harold Garde’s celebration of life. The energy and language are the same (with the exception of the pronouns) which only affirms our connections.
The artwork carries four unbidden faces—something that continues to happen with increasing frequency. Rarely do I see them until later (you may or may not notice, not always easy, not overt portraits by any stretch), after I’m done, and sometimes only once someone else asks where they came from, what they mean, who they are, why? None of which I can answer.
With gratitude to the editors. And to you all here who might choose to go to the WATERWHEEL REVIEW website (waterwheelreview.com) and take it all in.
