Fruita poet wins an award, publishes book | PostIndependent.com

Fruita poet wins an award, publishes book

Caitlin Row
crow@gjfreepress.com

Fruita poet Kyle Harvey will have a book of poems published and available this fall.

Fruita resident Kyle Harvey, 33, likes to stay busy — he's a songwriter, an artist, a husband and father, an art gallery owner, and now he's an award-winning poet. Harvey recently received top honors as the winner of the Telluride Arts 2013 Mark Fischer Poetry Prize for a poem titled "Hyacinth."

"I'm not sure why it came out the way it did," Harvey said of the process he took to craft his winning poem. "When I write a poem, it's because I have to."

"Formally, it's about greek mythology," Harvey added, "but there are undertones of bigger things, like the circle of life and rebirth. Also, it touches on mental illness and some social issues that were floating around in the air with the different shootings that were going on and the death of kids."

A book of poems, also titled "Hyacinth," will be published and available for purchase this fall with themes of "death and rebirth" prevalent throughout.

"The book will be coming out sometime in late August or early September," he said. "The final manuscript has been turned in. It's coming out on Lithic Press, based in Fruita."

Like many creative people, Harvey traces back his interest in the arts to elementary school.

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"I remember in second grade we had to write something for a contest, and I felt like it was something that I wanted to do in my future," he explained. "I'm also a songwriter, and I spend a lot of time doing music."

About six years ago, Harvey focused his passion further by taking creative writing classes and submitting his work to magazines and literary journals.

"You put in the work and eventually you start to write better poems," he said. "It's not an overnight thing."

As the owner of Rye Gallery, 201 E. Aspen Ave., Harvey also has a taste for "contemporary and progressive art." He prefers to personally work in mixed media, image transfers and collages mixed in with paintings.

For more information about Rye Galley, visit http://www.facebook.com/RyeGallery.

“Hyacinth,” BY KYLE HARVEY

The soil is soiled by the blood of a child,

the soil is soiled

the soil is soiled by blood,

a flower blooms, reborn in the musty breaths

of layered gray, in the musty breaths

of mountain caves, in the musty breaths

from the west near Thrace.

In the comfort of angels a child has starved,

in the comfort of angels

in the comfort of angels a child,

the last of his soprano muffled by a rush,

a clash of altos in the winds of green,

roots held down by first and second priests,

in the rush of wind a child has starved.

The child is laid upon a bed

of ash and willow, dirt and leaves,

under a blanket, the black leather of night.

To mourn at the end and in the shortness of days,

to mourn in the weary corners of grief,

to mourn in darkness, hour after hour

in the black tar mastic,

cold whore moan

of lonely nights,

we mourn, we mourn, we mourn.

When the hot sick panic begins to boil,

when the hot sick panic

when the hot sick panic begins,

nothing but emphatic Holy static

nothing but Holy static

nothing but

nothing but Holy

nothing.

The days grow longer, the weight shifts,

the hell of night begins to lift,

spring’s firstborn spills from blue,

bulbs upturned at the end of their stems.

The Holy static slowly fades away,

the Holy static slowly

the Holy static slowly fades,

piles of cold dry bones near the mouths of caves

brought back to life by the will of the wind,

brought back to life by the will of his breath,

to the west in vanished layers,

layers and layers and layers of gray. Still

every year we mourn in darkness,

every year we mourn the blood of a child

starved in the comfort of angels, every year

we mourn for Hyacinth

in the tight black leather of night.