Years ago when I got my first paralegal job, the firm hired a college student to file pleadings at the courthouse every day, and hand deliver letters and documents around town.
I had just finished college and so I was the youngest regular employee. Scott Holstand was the runner and we became friends. He was attending the University of Tennessee as an undergraduate and I took non-credit courses there until they admitted me to the graduate program in Creative Writing.
Scott was one of the most charming, funny, cute guys I had ever met. He was dynamic and brilliant, and I loved hanging out with him. We had a lot of good times together.
above, Scott at my apartment in 1985 with another work friend
We took a poetry course together at UT, and there his poetry writing really took off. I encouraged him to keep writing and to try and get published. He became a publishing powerhouse in the next few years, publishing a number of books. One of his books was nominated for the Pulitzer.
Scott moved to California and we lost touch for years, but then renewed our friendship not long before I adopted my daughter. He has had a rather tumultuous life, but his genius is undimmed and his poetry is still celebrated. He now lives in Chattanooga with his wife Gretchen.
This is from his Goodreads profile:
Scott C. Holstad is the author of 15 published collections of poetry. His literary criticism, fiction, nonfiction, and poetry have all appeared in hundreds of magazines throughout the world.
Scott's work has appeared in the following magazines: The Minnesota Review, Wisconsin Review, Hawaii Review, Pacific Review, Santa Clara Review, Palo Alto Review, Caffeine, Exquisite Corpse, Atom Mind, Long Shot, Poetry Ireland Review, Textual Studies in Canada, Pearl, Chiron Review, Lullwater Review, Awakenings Review, Asheville Poetry Review, Arkansas Review, and Southern Review. He is the poetry editor for Ray's Road Review.
Scott holds three academic degrees, from the University of Tennessee, California State University Long Beach and Queens University of Charlotte.
He has moved some 27 times and has lived all over North America.
I asked Scott to send me some poems and he sent the ones below. Read and enjoy.
Apartment Tower
Once, in a year
Bitter even for
Los Angeles, I
Lived in a
Koreatown
High rise.
Nestled in a
Barbed wire fence,
It glistened dully
In the smog.
A calico cat
Committed suicide
From a 19th floor
Balcony, and I
Comforted the
Owner. The
Hollywood sign
Could be seen
From a rooftop
Surreal with
Brambly trees
Surrounding pale
Blue pool.
Lush Korean
Beauties in
Bikinis soaked
Up the sun and
Played games of
Pool while overlooking
Wilshire Boulevard.
It was the 18th
Streeter’s territory,
And sometime
I’d feel for a
Glock that wasn’t
There while
Crossing darkened
Streets to the
Video store.
Police helicopters
Surrounded the
Neighborhood at
Night, while the
Building stood and
Stared amidst a
Cluster of skyscrapers,
Watching over the old
Churches, nightclubs,
And restaurants.
Koreatown was
Destroyed in the
Riots, yet my
Building remained
Intact, pillowing
The smoggy skies.
Looking for some
Tranquility, I said
A prayer and
Moved to Glendale.
PAC
Patient Acute Care Unit
the PAC
in the middle of the
compound surrounded
by two barbed wire
fences and two lock
down doors
no real in or out
when Lisa & Marcy
found me
i was being undressed
prepped to be trussed
up shackled in a gurney
shoved into solitary
locked in and
checked every 15
minutes flashlight
in eyes
am i still alive
the screaming is
horrible
the walls crying
a terrible beige
the shout you feel
of ways to contend
with the impulses
to rip eyeballs out
and like me
Billy’s been cutting
himself but he’s got
AIDS and no one wants
to get near him
he spits at the
bulky orderlies
my doctor tests me
for dementia but
i think i’m borderline
later
when they transferred me
to Cedars garbed in chains
the look on Lisa’s face
was horrible to behold
Trapped
Winter is a long descent
Into hell, a daring
Kidnapper, on whose lips
Rest the word always.
Look upon it as the rains
Do, leafless trees blowing
Earthward like constraints,
Shackles of the soul.
Hold me now, struggle
To breathe, smoke a
Cigarette in the falling
Snow. Winter, and
You are the only
Possibilities in this
World. Paper, pen,
Teeth, bones, and skin,
The future is now.
How will you make
This work, snowflakes
Against the window,
Every ounce of pain
Like blood on my lips.
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