
Cover art by Henry DenanderThere are so many wonderful small presses out there, doing all manner of work, in all manner of styles. One of the finest operations around is
Kamini Press out of Sweden. The quality and care put into their books is obvious even before you hold one of their books in your hands: they are, as the cliché goes, a sight to behold.
Once in hand, first impressions are confirmed: the cover, the art, the paper, and the overall production is outstanding. Their statement of intent from their website
says it all. Respect the poetry with the highest quality production possible, the rest will follow. It makes those of us on the lower end of things hang our heads in shame.
All this before even arriving at the first words. The poetry itself.
Bird Effort by
Ronald Baatz is No. 4 in the "Kamini Press Poetry Series" and here are two little gems that open the volume:
When the stream overflowed
the long grass
is combed close to the earth
You sing to the bird in me
I sing to the bird in you–
an effort
we love to face
each dawn
There is a depth of feeling in these poems delicately hinted at, subtly revealed:
Leave me bread
at least a few slices
leave me your voice
at least a few words
to go with the bread
Snow this morning
when I part the curtains
after getting out of bed
one rib
at a time
A sudden shift in perspective, and the introspective mode becomes all-embracing:
Finally
winter is losing its grip-
in my sleep
I hear the pond's spine
cracking
Receiver
hanging off the hook
in a phone booth
hanging off
the earth
And again:
Digging
her canary's grave
she catches the reflection
of lovely orange feathers
in the spoon
The old die old
sometimes the young
die young
and the little we know
the harsh winds blow
This beautiful little book contains 50 small poems, many 5 lines each, all tankas in their mood and construction, beautiful in their revelation. There is a simultaneous sadness and acceptance, a joy tempered by the real, a resonating wisdom. I can't resist - here is one more:
So many crows-
as though the earth
is turning black
from so many bones
buried in it
Can't blame the crickets
for crying out hour after hour-
summer having lied about
how long
it'd stay
This is the small press at its finest, the quality of work matched by the quality of the production, a beautiful reflection of life, work, dedication, and truth.
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This Saturday night, there will be
a reading sponsored by
Six Gallery Press at
Modern Formations Art Gallery here
in the Burg. There are some mighty fine people reading that evening and so, if you are in the area, stop by. 14 writers for $5, it doesn't get much better than that. It will be my first public reading in over 20 years and will be a mixture of
Lilliput work, in celebration of the 20th anniversary, and my own poems. A number of folks, including
Kris Collins,
Che Elias,
René Alberts,
Jerome Crooks, and
John Grochalski have managed to drag me out of hiding after all these years and I have to thank them all for helping re-energize an old fart. Fortunately for me (and everyone else), there are so many folks reading that our time will be necessarily brief.
We'll see if I'm into this poetry thing after all ...
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This week's featured issue of
Lilliput Review ,#165 from November 2008, is so new it's still not in
the archive. Enjoy.
Autumn's vibrant hues
or is it we who vibrate
in vivid rhythm
Harry Smith
lotus blossom
------evening twilight
M. Kei
full
moon
belongs
to
no one
nonetheless
Ed Baker
Chrysanthemums
He was a Japanese tourist.
At the checkout
they had to take his check
without proof of signature.
For all they knew
he might have written:
In the eastern garden
frost
on the late chrysanthemums.
David Lindley
cultivated chrysanthemums
wither
first
Issa
translated by David G. Lanoue
best,
Don
NB There were a number of transcription errors, along with one factual, in the original version of this post, which have been corrected. Thanks very much to Ronald Baatz for pointing this out and for his sympathetic understanding. My apology has been most graciously accepted.