Kerry Anderson has a poet’s way of being in the world. His interest in poetry began 40 years ago when he was studying political science at the University of Oregon and a teacher introduced him to Roger Service. “Since then,” he said, “I’ve been a reader and a writer of poetry.”
It was poetry, in part, that drew him back to Street Roots after a nine month stint with his mother in Central Oregon. “Street Roots gives me an outlet for my poetry,” he said. “I used to love the Street Roots’ writers’ workshop I participated in before Covid.”
But Kerry explained, Street Roots gives him so much more. “It’s a source of income, sure. But more importantly it’s a meeting place. I have a lot of good friends here. And it’s a focal point, it’s the way I start my day. In my mind, the main thing to do when I wake up is get to my (sales) corner. Everything else is secondary to that. It’s my job.”
Kerry left Portland nine months ago. “Let me explain why,” he said. “It seems funny now, but for about a year and a half every couple of months I would come into the Street Roots’ office with a black eye. I was assaulted six times and hospitalized twice.” These assaults were random and debilitating. They occurred in various places: under the Burnside Bridge, at a bus stop, at his post in front of Safeway.
He also went to Central Oregon to get clean from his addiction to alcohol. “With my mom, it’s a non-drinking environment.” During the nine months he was there, Kerry was also able to help his 80-year-old mom and her husband by doing work on their homes.
Kerry’s reverence for the Central Oregon landscape gave him more than peace and a place to stay healthy; he was inspired to write. “I’d walk the Rim Rock Trail every morning,” he said, “and find a place to write.”
One of the poems he wrote sitting at the bottom of that canyon is titled “Totally Different but the Same.” “I sat in that dry desert thinking of the beach, both places so separate, but I made the revelation that they’re also so similar, Jack Pine and driftwood, seaweed and sagebrush.”
Another poem he’s working on now focuses on the forest fires he witnessed during his time in Central Oregon. “It was a devastating kind of beauty,” he said. “The skies turned orange and red, always changing, so beautiful. The tanker airplanes flying right over the house so close you could just about see the pilots! I had so much respect for those pilots,” he said. “I want this to be a thank you poem to them.”
Back in Portland now and at his post at Southwest 10th Street and Jefferson Street, Kerry reconnected with many of the people he’d been close to before he left for Central Oregon. “Everybody knows me there,” he said. “Security guards, clerks, people that live in the neighborhood. People came up to me so happy, some even started crying because they thought I was dead.”
Kerry laughed quoting Mark Twain, “the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.”
“Those customers make me feel so good inside. People missed me and remembered me,” Kerry said, then he laughed adding, “And of course, it feels good to not be dead!”
The most difficult poem Kerry is working on is in honor of all his friends who have died since he’s been gone. “So many people have died,” he said, “I feel that I need to write about them. It’s not easy being homeless. I want to make the poem positive. While these people were here they were unique and important.”
Stop by his post on SW 10th and Jefferson, from 2:00 to 6:00 p.m. Monday through Saturday, and let him know you’re glad he’s back in town.