We've decided to tackle the printing and distribution ourselves partly because we are control freaks, partly because we are on a deadline for the May 2012 exhibition at the Chicago Botanic Garden, and partly because poetry publishing is such a crap shoot, even for a book that isn't four-color, an unusual shape, and based on an 17th century botanical reference book.
It would be great if you can email us and let us know if you are planning to buy a copy (for about $20) so we can figure out how many to print. We hope to have the book in hand by late March. You can email me directly here.
Sage moves from the innocence of childhood and spring (see the opening poem, Air, in my December 2010 post) to the realities of winter, aging...and regret. Here is the poem that opens the last section of the book.
Water
All the words we regret
rise on waves of our own heat,
gather in dark clouds,
suspended.
In winter, they fall.
Each unique --
the chilling remark,
the harsh denial.
They murmur outside
the bedroom window,
slick and treacherous
blocking the last way
out.
(c) Beth Feldman Brandt