Hi, I'M CHRISTOPHER KUHL
Nobody, not even the rain has such small hands (e. e. cummings, from “Somewhere I Have Never Travelled, Gladly Beyond”), that was the line that gave birth to me as a poet. But there were other elements along the way. First, when I was a young child, first given to talk, my father and I would play word games. We’d rhyme, spell words in fanciful ways, try to talk like college professors (my father didn’t go to college, and I hadn’t started kindergarten yet, so I didn’t know anything about teachers, college or otherwise), read books and make up different texts (rewriting Dr. Seuss was our favorite), try to speak only in poetry (this drove my Estonian mother, a survivor of the Holocaust, nuts: “why you do that?!”), and told jokes, asked riddles.