The Art Box - Episode 77 - Butler Silo’s, Hootenannies, Cowboy Poetry and Not Afraid to Cry - Meet Harlo Birkholz

It was our pleasure to interview one of our founding members Harlo Birkholz recently. Instead of typing Harlo’s story here, we will let you just listen. Below are a few of his poems for you to enjoy. Who's in the Mirror I stumbled and it wasn't my toe That got me in trouble. I tried to blame the rock, the berm, the world, Until I saw me, in a mirror of my mind.   Shocked, I said, “THIS has to end”  but I had no definition for the elusive “This”. I stared at the wall, hummed “Ummm” and Contemplated my navel but came up empty.   Someone suggested, “Find the cross” when I couldn't find my butt with both hands. Doing a desert walk-a-bout I talked to Mahatma, Buddha  and Elvis. No help there.   It didn't click until I passed a for-real mirror And saw myself, my real self, no illusions. “Myself” wasn't ugly, just unfamiliar. Getting to know The me of “me” brought myself back in perspective.   I'm comfortable in my own skin now. It fits. My mind is settled. not exploding out. Even if My thoughts are expansive, they're calm. Thank you, whoever, for the me I've found.   Harlo Birkholz   A Cowboy Haiku   The old cowboy knew, His days left were few. His horses sensed the good-byes When the ranch went, with wet eyes.   Then old, too feeble to tend, Even his four legged friend Was gone. No more a wet nose saying Howdy to a pals hand... not playing.   He wrote, the last to do.   The stars in the sky My friends...are dimmer and cold. The earth beckons me.   Harlo Birkholz