It is Veteran’s Day and I miss my friend Crysta Casey, who was a military journalist, poet, and painter. We met in 2002 at Red Sky Poetry Theatre (Seattle’s longest running open mic series). We were quite different people – she was 25 years my senior, a military veteran, and sufferer of extreme mental health issues – yet we had a very casual and organic friendship that came together quite effortlessly. It was only after her death, did I realize she was also my mentor and artistic advisor.

After the reading that night, Crysta and I talked on the street for a long time. She smoked cigarettes as we realized we shared similar poetic influences (Anne Sexton, Sharon Olds, the Surrealists, and others). We exchanged contacts to meet up and share poems. What started as frequent cafe meet-ups to read/critique each other’s work, eventually turned into a weekly date in Crysta’s Belltown apartment with wine and food and an exchange of books and literary magazines.

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