Leanne Payne, one of my heroes, describes an experience similar to mine in one of her books, which I can’t cite at the moment, but which I read somewhere in between my two epiphanic moments. (I believe it is in The Healing Presence.)
She would call it a ‘seeing’—Perceptions of the Unseen Real—the quintessence of poetic awe, that phenomenon whereby the poet, the artist, sees past the visible into deeper, invisible realities. Keats the poet complained that Newton the scientist had destroyed the poetry of the rainbow by reducing it to its prismatic colors. But that ain’t necessarily so. The scientist is merely approaching the rainbow from another perspective of awe, and trying to describe it with his mathematics, tools, words, telescopes.
The artist’s task is to select his medium, master his materials, and produce in tangible form that which is intangible. To ‘eff’ the ineffable, as Brennan Manning so wonderfully puts it. So my poetic awe of the moment might move me to write a poem one day, and not just call my brother and say, “Guess who I ran into at the post office today?”
No small task. Do I have time? Do I care to write about that moment? Did I ‘get it’—can I identify the epiphany in the encounter with an old neighbor in my home town? Did I even notice it? What is the metaphor?
In my poem “The Girl Scout Badge”, what moves it past another scout earning another badge? In “Navy Dentist”, what moves the poem past just another disagreeable session in the dentist’s chair, to the epiphany that we are prone to vices destined to earn us more disagreeableness (clue: answer in the last two lines of the poem)? What drives us to do the things we do?
One needs a lot of time to think and to be for this stuff. You may have noticed how loathe we are as a culture to think and to be.
So I only write a fraction of what I ‘see' in the frenetic pace of today's society. I wish I could capture more, stare out the window more, write faster, with more lucidity. But it sometimes takes me years to find the time to unpack what I ‘saw’—to identify the epiphany, find the metaphor, and choose the words that capture the ‘seeing.’
In the meantime, I jot down my Perceptions of the Unseen Real, for those days when I can sit and stare out the window and wonder what they mean. One of my favorite pastimes, one of my favorite definitions of art, and one of my strongest challenges in writing.
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poems. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
The Payne family lived next door, and Mr. Payne often came over to watch my father working on his boat. He would also lend a tool or bit of advice, and chuckle at my father's pluck, like someone who knows he'll never build a boat, but sure admires the guy doing it. My parents befriended the Paynes, which troubled me. For one thing, Mrs. Payne listened to opera. And they had a fence in the middle of their backyard. Behind this fence, they let their property grow wild, another neighborhood anomaly. I worried that their wilderness would sneak over into our backyard when we weren't looking and flirt with our poplars and upside-down boat. Baby anomalies would be born and unpredictable forces unleashed.
I needn't have worried. The Paynes moved away, to be replaced by the Cross family, which cut down the wilderness and added children to itself with the same regularity as did my family. This conveniently lined up playmates for each of us, and we all got along famously. Mr. Cross was a mechanical genius, demonstrated by the fact that he owned a French car, which he could start with a screwdriver. He showed us the engine in the trunk of the car, and the piece of plywood he had built in between the front and back seats. This kept children from falling off the backseat in the days before seatbelts, and we thought this was way cool. We begged him to take us for a ride in it, even though it was an anomaly. He piled us all in and we rolled around that piece of plywood like bowling balls and bowling pins.
Mr. Cross' particular genius with engines, and the fact that he loved airplanes as much as my father, sparked a lasting friendship between them. A kindred spirit had moved into the neighborhood. My father's vision for the boat expanded, fueled by Mr. Cross' technical knowledge, which now invested itself into nautical transportation. My father peppered Mr. Cross with questions, and their heady collaboration produced a great deal of energy, which they funneled into the boat. Ribs went into place, and a hull covered the ribs. Our cat took to sleeping under its shade. Peggy Cross and I danced under that hull¬-tent in the shadow of the poplars and held tea parties on its struts.
I needn't have worried. The Paynes moved away, to be replaced by the Cross family, which cut down the wilderness and added children to itself with the same regularity as did my family. This conveniently lined up playmates for each of us, and we all got along famously. Mr. Cross was a mechanical genius, demonstrated by the fact that he owned a French car, which he could start with a screwdriver. He showed us the engine in the trunk of the car, and the piece of plywood he had built in between the front and back seats. This kept children from falling off the backseat in the days before seatbelts, and we thought this was way cool. We begged him to take us for a ride in it, even though it was an anomaly. He piled us all in and we rolled around that piece of plywood like bowling balls and bowling pins.
Mr. Cross' particular genius with engines, and the fact that he loved airplanes as much as my father, sparked a lasting friendship between them. A kindred spirit had moved into the neighborhood. My father's vision for the boat expanded, fueled by Mr. Cross' technical knowledge, which now invested itself into nautical transportation. My father peppered Mr. Cross with questions, and their heady collaboration produced a great deal of energy, which they funneled into the boat. Ribs went into place, and a hull covered the ribs. Our cat took to sleeping under its shade. Peggy Cross and I danced under that hull¬-tent in the shadow of the poplars and held tea parties on its struts.
Monday, February 28, 2011
How to Build a Boat
The boat began life upside down. "Why?" we asked our father. "Because that's how you build a boat!" When he gave us cryptic answers to simple questions, with his crooked smile, we balked. But this time we weren't sure how to proceed, baffled as we were by the boat. Fortunately, our father's love of teaching rescued us from his love of teasing, and he continued: "First you put these ribs up, then you build the hull over them. This is easier to do upside down. Then when you finish, you cut the ribs away from the struts and turn it right-side up. "-- phenomenon we were not to see until some years later when we moved.
Moral of the story: sometimes the solution is to look at thing upside down.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Scent of Poplars
That's brother Al up on the boat, which served also as our backyard tent, jungle jim and parlor for tea parties.
Notice those poplars to the right in the picture? They, or rather their scent, have brought me right into the heart of many a poem. I'm sure they didn't know it at the time, but many years later, while walking alongside a row of poplars in a cemetery in France, I caught that familiar scent, and was transported back in time to the five poplars standing in a row in our backyard, along a white fence, like folded umbrellas ...
The poplars were foreigners in a neighborhood filled with maples and pines. No one else had poplars in their backyard. The neighbors said they came from Italy. I wondered how it came to be that poplars from Italy stood in our backyard.
The poplars stood like sentinels, guarding the other anomaly: my father building the boat. No one else's father was building a boat in their backyard. Should we be worried or proud? We decided to be proud, although our mother had her doubts, and I was a bit worried.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Last night I had a 'moment.'
You know when you're talking with someone, and they say something that drops into some deep pool of your heart, sending reverberations through your soul? I’m sure there will be some poems to mine from this conversation. Here’s how it went:
I was answering some questions, explaining a bit about the background of Poems from the Boatyard--backstory, in creative lingo. What does the ‘boatyard’ refer to? What's this book about? How long did it take you to write it?
The simple answer is that Poems from the Boatyard is about growing up. But the real story, which I didn't realize until I had to write a short bio (no more than 50 words), was that it was about my father. Oh, he doesn’t appear in too many of the poems, but he’s there—that is to say, his influence, his imprint, his impact on my life.
And as I shared it all with the person asking me about the book, I told her how my father sold the boat to provide for our education. We talked for a while about that quintessential fatherly function: provider. Whether or not a father provides well for his family, which is usually taken to mean financially, remains a benchmark for good or bad fathering in our culture.
We then went on to discuss the marketing of the book, and how it worked, and how pleased I was that I could honor my uncle by using his artwork on the cover.
This dear person commented that I got to honor both my father and his brother with this chapbook, and could earn some much-needed shekels in the process. And then she dropped the stone into the well of my heart: "Your father's still providing, isn't he?"
As I mine my heart to explore that for the poems I'm sure it will bring, let me end with one poem that was written while driving in the car with my father, many years ago. The memory is still sweet, and captures three of my favorite aspects of time with Dad: art, a boat, and the sea. The blogger has erased the formatting, but you can get that in the chapbook...picture a sunset...
ALL THE SWANS
We sink
quietly into each
other’s company, watch
the sunset pour into the sea
a pink the sky cannot contain,
the artist cannot paint. Instead,
she paints the boats, kissing her
baby profusely between strokes.
Gulls squat on the stone bench
where we sip coffee. In the
salt marsh, a light blinks,
summoning infinite
summer bugs.
We ride home in silence, sweating, past all the swans.
You know when you're talking with someone, and they say something that drops into some deep pool of your heart, sending reverberations through your soul? I’m sure there will be some poems to mine from this conversation. Here’s how it went:
I was answering some questions, explaining a bit about the background of Poems from the Boatyard--backstory, in creative lingo. What does the ‘boatyard’ refer to? What's this book about? How long did it take you to write it?
The simple answer is that Poems from the Boatyard is about growing up. But the real story, which I didn't realize until I had to write a short bio (no more than 50 words), was that it was about my father. Oh, he doesn’t appear in too many of the poems, but he’s there—that is to say, his influence, his imprint, his impact on my life.
And as I shared it all with the person asking me about the book, I told her how my father sold the boat to provide for our education. We talked for a while about that quintessential fatherly function: provider. Whether or not a father provides well for his family, which is usually taken to mean financially, remains a benchmark for good or bad fathering in our culture.
We then went on to discuss the marketing of the book, and how it worked, and how pleased I was that I could honor my uncle by using his artwork on the cover.
This dear person commented that I got to honor both my father and his brother with this chapbook, and could earn some much-needed shekels in the process. And then she dropped the stone into the well of my heart: "Your father's still providing, isn't he?"
As I mine my heart to explore that for the poems I'm sure it will bring, let me end with one poem that was written while driving in the car with my father, many years ago. The memory is still sweet, and captures three of my favorite aspects of time with Dad: art, a boat, and the sea. The blogger has erased the formatting, but you can get that in the chapbook...picture a sunset...
ALL THE SWANS
We sink
quietly into each
other’s company, watch
the sunset pour into the sea
a pink the sky cannot contain,
the artist cannot paint. Instead,
she paints the boats, kissing her
baby profusely between strokes.
Gulls squat on the stone bench
where we sip coffee. In the
salt marsh, a light blinks,
summoning infinite
summer bugs.
We ride home in silence, sweating, past all the swans.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Well, I’ve barely had time to create buzz, but since 'going live' last weekend, it's been quite the buzz...a fast, fun week of marketing and media releases, with the learning curve taking on new meaning, and a whole new world opening up. Lots more Facebook friends for starters :)
I’ve been a marketing maniac these past two weekends, visiting art centers, libraries, coffee shops and bookstores. And after monkeying around with Mail Chimp all month (not sure the boatyard prepared me for Mail Chimp…although it sure required perseverance!), I got my first media release out before heading to Florida for a few days.
A flurry of phone calls to brother Pete, coordinating the northern media blitz on LI and New England filled in any gaps I might have found during the week. He is poring over family lore and photos, scanning in all sorts of goodies, and in his own learning curve on social media marketing. Thanks Pete!
Many thanks to all of you who wrote, bought, and/or encouraged this week. It has just added to the fun and I really appreciate celebrating with you.
In case you missed this in Mail Chimp, I have some answers for the FAQs coming my way; if you’ve already read it, you can stop here, and enjoy the rest of your day. See you next time!
1. The book is not published yet. This is an advance sales period, during which the publisher is testing the marketability of the book. Based on sales during this period, they will or will not publish. They need a minimum of 55 orders.
2. I am ‘paid’ in copies; the more copies that are sold during this period, the more ‘free’ copies I receive, which I can then sell at retail. My goal is to sell 205 copies during this advance sales period, which will net me the highest quantity of free copies the publisher will send me: 100.
3. Assuming all goes well, and I sell the 55 minimum, this is a limited edition press run. The maximum number that Finishing Line Press will print is 1000. So you may want to get in on the action early!
4. Shipping costs are reduced to $1.50 just for the advanced sales period; costs will go up once the book is published.
5. I do not have any copies of the book to give you when I see you in person, because it is not published yet! I will take orders, however, if you don’t mind waiting until you see me to receive them! (I don’t want to incur shipping costs for myself.)
6. During the advance sales period, if you use Pay Pal, you can also use the ‘bill me later’ option, and get a $10 rebate.
7. Because you want to amaze Finishing Line Press with how vital ‘Poems from the Boatyard’ is to your life, the poetry world, and culture in general!
8. You want to encourage me ? (shameless, I know…).
I’ve been a marketing maniac these past two weekends, visiting art centers, libraries, coffee shops and bookstores. And after monkeying around with Mail Chimp all month (not sure the boatyard prepared me for Mail Chimp…although it sure required perseverance!), I got my first media release out before heading to Florida for a few days.
A flurry of phone calls to brother Pete, coordinating the northern media blitz on LI and New England filled in any gaps I might have found during the week. He is poring over family lore and photos, scanning in all sorts of goodies, and in his own learning curve on social media marketing. Thanks Pete!
Many thanks to all of you who wrote, bought, and/or encouraged this week. It has just added to the fun and I really appreciate celebrating with you.
In case you missed this in Mail Chimp, I have some answers for the FAQs coming my way; if you’ve already read it, you can stop here, and enjoy the rest of your day. See you next time!
1. The book is not published yet. This is an advance sales period, during which the publisher is testing the marketability of the book. Based on sales during this period, they will or will not publish. They need a minimum of 55 orders.
2. I am ‘paid’ in copies; the more copies that are sold during this period, the more ‘free’ copies I receive, which I can then sell at retail. My goal is to sell 205 copies during this advance sales period, which will net me the highest quantity of free copies the publisher will send me: 100.
3. Assuming all goes well, and I sell the 55 minimum, this is a limited edition press run. The maximum number that Finishing Line Press will print is 1000. So you may want to get in on the action early!
4. Shipping costs are reduced to $1.50 just for the advanced sales period; costs will go up once the book is published.
5. I do not have any copies of the book to give you when I see you in person, because it is not published yet! I will take orders, however, if you don’t mind waiting until you see me to receive them! (I don’t want to incur shipping costs for myself.)
6. During the advance sales period, if you use Pay Pal, you can also use the ‘bill me later’ option, and get a $10 rebate.
7. Because you want to amaze Finishing Line Press with how vital ‘Poems from the Boatyard’ is to your life, the poetry world, and culture in general!
8. You want to encourage me ? (shameless, I know…).
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Start Your Engines!!!
We’re live folks!!!
That's right--Finishing Line Press is ready to roll, a little ahead of schedule, which is fine with me, as I benefit from an extra 10 days of marketing. So here’s the nitty-gritty, from the press release:
"Finishing Line Press is proud to announce the publication of Poems from the Boatyard, a collection of poems by Pat Butler.
“In Poems from the Boatyard, Pat Butler…is our tour guide, leading us via stark, concise images through a past as vivid as right now. Butler weaves her narrative in verse, honestly, like one whose life depends on it. These poems hit hard, get straight to the point and you’ll want to experience them again and again. Just listen to this as Butler writes in “Riptides,”
“they go straight through you, and hold you down that one second longer
than lungs can hold air. The sand scrapes your knees, sears the skin
off knuckles and nose, and fills your bathing suit, teeth and ears.
You get pounded up the beach, legs over head, to surface with sand
in your mouth and salt in your eyes.”
—Travis Wayne Denton, The Burden of Speech
Poems from the Boatyard can be ordered through Finishing Line Press, during an advance sales period ending March 30, at www.finishinglinepress.com. Click on “New Releases and forthcoming title” link, or go directly to: http://www.finishinglinepress.com/NewReleasesandForthcomingTitles.htm
PLEASE NOTE: This is an advance sales period. Books will ship May 27 (just in time for Memorial Day laziness!).
The books are listed in order of author’s last name, so you will need to scroll down to find my title—on the third row down. Please note that Poems from the Boatyard will not be available on amazon.com until after it is published (May 27).
Why buy during advance sales?
. shipping costs are reduced;
. if you buy before Feb. 28 using Pay Pal, you can get a $10 rebate—so the book would only cost $3.50.
. the press run is determined by advance sales; the more sold, the higher the press run, and the more I am 'paid' (in free copies, which I can then sell for retail);
. this is a limited edition press run, and I know a LOT of people!!! Only 1000 copies will be printed max.
Unless they go to a second edition. Which they almost never do.
Of course, we could blow the socks off their whole routine, and exceed all expectations, couldn't we?! My brother thinks so...
Go for it, dear friends, and many thanks!!!
That's right--Finishing Line Press is ready to roll, a little ahead of schedule, which is fine with me, as I benefit from an extra 10 days of marketing. So here’s the nitty-gritty, from the press release:
"Finishing Line Press is proud to announce the publication of Poems from the Boatyard, a collection of poems by Pat Butler.
“In Poems from the Boatyard, Pat Butler…is our tour guide, leading us via stark, concise images through a past as vivid as right now. Butler weaves her narrative in verse, honestly, like one whose life depends on it. These poems hit hard, get straight to the point and you’ll want to experience them again and again. Just listen to this as Butler writes in “Riptides,”
“they go straight through you, and hold you down that one second longer
than lungs can hold air. The sand scrapes your knees, sears the skin
off knuckles and nose, and fills your bathing suit, teeth and ears.
You get pounded up the beach, legs over head, to surface with sand
in your mouth and salt in your eyes.”
—Travis Wayne Denton, The Burden of Speech
Poems from the Boatyard can be ordered through Finishing Line Press, during an advance sales period ending March 30, at www.finishinglinepress.com. Click on “New Releases and forthcoming title” link, or go directly to: http://www.finishinglinepress.com/NewReleasesandForthcomingTitles.htm
PLEASE NOTE: This is an advance sales period. Books will ship May 27 (just in time for Memorial Day laziness!).
The books are listed in order of author’s last name, so you will need to scroll down to find my title—on the third row down. Please note that Poems from the Boatyard will not be available on amazon.com until after it is published (May 27).
Why buy during advance sales?
. shipping costs are reduced;
. if you buy before Feb. 28 using Pay Pal, you can get a $10 rebate—so the book would only cost $3.50.
. the press run is determined by advance sales; the more sold, the higher the press run, and the more I am 'paid' (in free copies, which I can then sell for retail);
. this is a limited edition press run, and I know a LOT of people!!! Only 1000 copies will be printed max.
Unless they go to a second edition. Which they almost never do.
Of course, we could blow the socks off their whole routine, and exceed all expectations, couldn't we?! My brother thinks so...
Go for it, dear friends, and many thanks!!!
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Blurb #3
Robert Brewer, Editor of Poet’s Market and writer of Poetic Asides, the Writer’s Digest online poetry blog, has one of the most helpful online poetry blogs, stimulating us with prompts and challenges constantly, while participating himself, and raising four kids. Amazing.
Last year, I participated in his November Poem A Day Challenge : write a poem a day for the month of November, clean 'em up in December, Create a chapbook in January, and enter a competition. I actually managed to do it last year, and enjoyed it thoroughly, but no, didn't win that competition. Finishing Line Press was more than a consolation prize.
So, since publishing with them was the challenge this year, I had to forego
Robert's challenge, and asked him instead for an endorsement. He was kind enough to write the following:
"Poems from the Boatyard is a wonderful collection that often provides the reader with a nice combination of sounds and structure in poetry. This collection reads like a postcard from the sea written by a girl who’s been paying attention to every heartbeat that surrounds her and is not afraid to point out the contradictions of living. I can’t wait to see where Pat Butler will be traveling next.”
Thank you Robert!
This will be my last shameless promotion...until I get a good book review :)
Thanks for following along!
Last year, I participated in his November Poem A Day Challenge : write a poem a day for the month of November, clean 'em up in December, Create a chapbook in January, and enter a competition. I actually managed to do it last year, and enjoyed it thoroughly, but no, didn't win that competition. Finishing Line Press was more than a consolation prize.
So, since publishing with them was the challenge this year, I had to forego
Robert's challenge, and asked him instead for an endorsement. He was kind enough to write the following:
"Poems from the Boatyard is a wonderful collection that often provides the reader with a nice combination of sounds and structure in poetry. This collection reads like a postcard from the sea written by a girl who’s been paying attention to every heartbeat that surrounds her and is not afraid to point out the contradictions of living. I can’t wait to see where Pat Butler will be traveling next.”
Thank you Robert!
This will be my last shameless promotion...until I get a good book review :)
Thanks for following along!
Friday, January 28, 2011
I don't even know Travis Wayne Denton, who wrote an endorsement for me, but I did at least meet him after the favor was turned in--at Poetry@Tech, one of the more incredible cultural finds here in Atlanta. Poetry@Tech was the brainchild of two men who wanted to ensure that "in a highly specialized and technological environment, students' aptitudes in the humanities are nurtured and supported as a foundation for life-long learning" (from the website).
In addition to poetry classes on campus, Thomas Lux (a major poet in his own right) hosts poetry readings about four times a year, bringing in some of the hotshots, mixing it up with emerging poets, from all over the United States and beyond. Rebecca and I got up there last month, and so I got to meet Travis and thank him personally for an amazing endorsement:
"In Poems from the Boatyard, Pat Butler, poet, is our tour guide, leading us via stark, concise images through a past as vivid as right now. Butler weaves her narrative in verse, honestly, like one whose life depends on it. These poems hit hard, get straight to the point and you’ll want to experience them again and again. Just listen to this as Butler writes in 'Riptides,'
“they go straight through you, and hold you down that one second longer
than lungs can hold air. The sand scrapes your knees, sears the skin
off knuckles and nose, and fills your bathing suit, teeth and ears.
You get pounded up the beach, legs over head, to surface with sand
in your mouth and salt in your eyes.”
Travis Wayne Denton, Author of The Burden of Speech
Thank you Travis!
In addition to poetry classes on campus, Thomas Lux (a major poet in his own right) hosts poetry readings about four times a year, bringing in some of the hotshots, mixing it up with emerging poets, from all over the United States and beyond. Rebecca and I got up there last month, and so I got to meet Travis and thank him personally for an amazing endorsement:
"In Poems from the Boatyard, Pat Butler, poet, is our tour guide, leading us via stark, concise images through a past as vivid as right now. Butler weaves her narrative in verse, honestly, like one whose life depends on it. These poems hit hard, get straight to the point and you’ll want to experience them again and again. Just listen to this as Butler writes in 'Riptides,'
“they go straight through you, and hold you down that one second longer
than lungs can hold air. The sand scrapes your knees, sears the skin
off knuckles and nose, and fills your bathing suit, teeth and ears.
You get pounded up the beach, legs over head, to surface with sand
in your mouth and salt in your eyes.”
Travis Wayne Denton, Author of The Burden of Speech
Thank you Travis!
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Buzz....................................
It’s time to create buzz…you know, that low, vibrating, humming sound, as of bees, machinery, or people talking, a rumor spreading, a report coming, the sound of whispering, gossip, a feeling of intense enthusiasm, excitement, or exhilaration, dizziness, a slight intoxication, to tell or spread the news, secretively, conspiratorially, then going viral, linked it, with tweets, Mail Chimp (if I ever figure it out) and FB.
Well.
I’m not sure that’s my personality, but let me throw you a bone or two in the next few days…blurbs and excerpts for your amazement and edification...starting with my writer friend Rebecca, who until recently ran our writer's group here in Peachtree City, and kicked me in the butt last year to submit this manuscript:
"Patricia Butler’s poetry tells beautiful stories—whether the setting is the seashore, the city dump, or a dentist’s office. Quiet contemplation and spiritual connection undergird her witty and sometimes disquieting observations of the world at large."
I owe you one at Thai Isan, Rebecca! Thanks!
Well.
I’m not sure that’s my personality, but let me throw you a bone or two in the next few days…blurbs and excerpts for your amazement and edification...starting with my writer friend Rebecca, who until recently ran our writer's group here in Peachtree City, and kicked me in the butt last year to submit this manuscript:
"Patricia Butler’s poetry tells beautiful stories—whether the setting is the seashore, the city dump, or a dentist’s office. Quiet contemplation and spiritual connection undergird her witty and sometimes disquieting observations of the world at large."
I owe you one at Thai Isan, Rebecca! Thanks!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Coming soon...to a tidal flat bookstore near you...
In post-World War II suburban America, my father decided to build a boat—in our backyard. The boat became a member of our family, the talk of the neighborhood, and a litmus test of moral fiber. Memories of the boat, the characters and events of those days, and the power of place emerged during the years that followed my father’s death in 2001. "Poems from the Boatyard" is the result.
"Poems from the Boatyard", with cover art by Uncle Jack (see UncleJacksAttic.blogspot.com) has been picked up by Finishing Line Press (www.finishinglinepress.com) which will be taking prepublication orders soon. Stay tuned for the next episode, and sign up if you would like to receive notification of this chapbook's entry into the world of poetry!
"Poems from the Boatyard", with cover art by Uncle Jack (see UncleJacksAttic.blogspot.com) has been picked up by Finishing Line Press (www.finishinglinepress.com) which will be taking prepublication orders soon. Stay tuned for the next episode, and sign up if you would like to receive notification of this chapbook's entry into the world of poetry!
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