Bookmaking

--aaaaaand we're back. I keep reminding myself to get back to the blog, but days (and weeks) pass. When classes start in two weeks, I'll be navigating a major speed bump: it's not *all* about time management, but organization definitely helps. My dreams are all about teaching. . .
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At the press: 1) Assembling covers (and full copies) of Deb Burnham's chap. It looks good. 2) Narrowing down the cover art options for Judith's chap. 3) Typing up our first fiction title, to be announced any day now. . .
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Matthew Hittinger seeks advice regarding the apparent implosion of the press that was to have published his chapbook. . . Click here to read all about it and send support, advice, well-wishes. . .
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In the garden: the morning glories have covered half the back dooryard and are now scrambling up into the trees. Three nice colors: an almost-sky-blue, a rose pink, and a small white with pink "star" markings. I've taken pix but keep forgetting to load them. Soon, soon. . .
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Time to help with dinner. I'm making the tomato/basil/mozzarella salad [chop cherry tomatoes into quarters; mince fresh basil; cube a few ounces of mozzarella; toss with fresh cracked pepper, splash of lemon juice & two or three splashes of balsamic vinegar] [= yummy garden goodness]

Tree sweeping

While idly thumbing through a stack of chapbooks on my desk tonight, I ran across this poem by Carl Lindner, from his chapbook Eat & Remember, reminding me of course of last Sunday's snow and our concern for the Japanese maple--which has since de-leafed. The garden is shuttered down for December's arrival. I need to bring the bay tree in, but I wanted to give it a few cold nights first. (And to figure out where to put it.) But here's the poem:

The Tree Sweeper

Bent by snow still
falling, the young
pine called him out.

He took a broom
to sweep away
the white. Minutes

drifted down.
He went on
to the spruce. All

that morning saw him
brush the needles,
dusting off the crowns,

giving the slender
trunks a shake.
As he worked, only

he could tell how,
over and over, he
lifted like a branch.

With every pass
of the broom, he kept
singing “evergreen”

to himself, low,
the way a snowflake
hums as it falls.
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I printed a test copy of Undergound Singing today. Found five or six layout errors, went back & corrected those, printed fresh pages, cut the whole thing to size, stapled it together so I could hold it, turn the pages, get the sense of the thing as a book. Sent it off to the author, after e-mailing him a PDF of (my design for) the cover.

Anyone want to help cut and tie some books? I'm hoping to get all the copies mailed out before the holiday. I've been raiding the recycling bins on campus for good sturdy envelopes to re-use.
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Miriam has been writing some wonderful poems. I just read a batch of them today, and I'm impressed! Best of luck with your applications, M.
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Ack, I'm up too late again.