Albert Huffstickler
evening cool--
a Buddha of healing
in a thicket
Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue
best,
You may have noticed the construction of the new green space that the City is installing at the northeast corner of 38th and Duval. This project should be completed around the beginning of February when the City will turn the maintenance over to the Hyde Park and Hancock neighborhoods. The story of this green space begins with Albert Huffstickler, known to many as the "Bard of Hyde Park." Mr. Huffstickler was a longtime resident of the neighborhood and he worked at the Perry-Castañeda Library at the University of Texas from 1973 until his retirement in 1990. For most of his life he wrote poetry, publishing hundreds of poems in journals and small presses, or publishing in his own Press of Circumstance, for which he also provided the cover art. Many neighbors recall visiting with Mr. Huffstickler at one of his neighborhood hangouts like Quackenbush Bakery on 43rd Street or at Dolce Vita on Duval, where he would write poems, work on his charcoal drawings, or visit with neighbors. Ever since he passed away in 2002, neighbors have been thinking of ways to honor him.
A few years ago, City funding became available to construct a green space at a small strip of City property at the corner of 38th St. and Duval. In a joint neighborhood agreement between HPNA and Hancock NA, the City agreed to construct the green space in 2011 and construction began in November 2012. Since this will officially be a "green space" and not a park, the agreement with the neighborhoods and the City are that after construction the City will hand over all maintenance to Hyde Park and Hancock. Former HPNA President Lisa Harris and former HPNA Steering Committee member John Paul Moore were instrumental in working with the City to come up with a design and in working with our Hancock neighbors on the joint agreement for ongoing maintenance that will be necessary to keep the space well watered, mowed, and trimmed. The name Huffstickler Green became an obvious choice for this new green space in honor of the man that so many neighbors know as the Hyde Park poet laureate, and whose poems have appeared countless times in the Pecan Press. We will soon be announcing a date for the opening of Huffstickler Green when we plan to hold a ribbon cutting ceremony.
Gullied Lives
Raw ravines
corrugated
by wind and rain
and time.
Hearts don't break.
They weather.
That little old lady has a purpose.
She's a cartographer completing the map of her life.
It's there on her face,
as contained, as exact as the will that lies
deep in that small, sunken breast.
She looks around her, laughs.
Another line forms,
another move toward the completion she already envisions.
There's nothing more for us here.
Let's leave her to her work.
Cafe Poem
The woman in
the corner,
white on black,
white skin,
black hair,
black dress,
lights a
long, white
cigarette,
the orange flame
bright
against her cheek.
You are a dark space
in which a circle
of tiny turquoise stones
revolves endlessly.
Laundromat
This is how Hopper would have painted it:
the line of yellow dryers
catching the sunlight from the broad window.
Man with his hand reached up to the coin slot,
head turned to the side as though reflecting,
woman bent over the wide table
intent on sorting,
another standing hands at her side, looking off -
as though visiting another country;
each thing as it is,
not reaching beyond the scene for his symbols,
saying merely, "On such and such a day,
it was just as I show you."
Each person, each object, static
but the light a pilgrim.
Status Quo
My father, the stone,
rests in my heart
awaiting his completion
with a dry persistence.
I let him wait.
As all stones must,
he is learning patience.
I'm getting old now
I think I'll marry
the rain
and settle down
Like a blind dog
I turn my nose
to the wind
and truth
enters me.
Write on my tombstone:
Once so easily distracted,
now focused.
I wanted to understand
so much all at once
but learned:
to understand everything,
begin with one breath.
We forget we're
mostly water
till the rain falls
and every atom
in our body
starts to go home.
And you too shall
pass, the autumn
tells me, shaking
its leaves
in my face.
Albert Huffstickler
a boulder that looks
like an old woman asleep...
autumn evening
Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue
best,
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