Book of Crow Chapbooks
Book of Crow Chapbooks

I love to hold poetry in my hands. I like the feel of paper, the authority of card stock, the surprise of waxed red thread binding the narrow spine of a chapbook.  I wanted to hold Book of Crow like this, to turn the physical pages.

In creating a chapbook I learned several things. First, that my printer is very awkward for printing four pages on one sheet; I need to print each sheet individually, flip it over and reinsert it to print on the back of the sheet.  I also learned how to wax thread and how to bind the pages with a simple stitch, and that I am no good at cutting perfect rectangles. Stamp ink bleeds through paper;  it is tedious to use Microsoft Word to layout four pages per sheet;  it is enjoyable to shop for paper.

Book of Crow Title Page
Book of Crow Title Page

I made two copies of Book of Crow. I intend to make more, both of Book of Crow and other collections. My distribution will be on a whim; send them to people, place them in the myriad Little Libraries I find in my wanderings, leave them in coffee shops. These first two copies, I’m going to send to friends. I don’t know when I will make more, but if you want to get a surprise in the mail someday, send me your address at poetobscura AT gmail DOT com, and I’ll send you a chapbook from my next batch.

Book of Crow Author's Note
Book of Crow Author’s Note


Concerning the Summer Sky in Texas

Concerning the Summer Sky in Texas

A sky this empty         is no sky

A sky this empty         is no sky but naked malediction

A sky this empty         is a pyromaniac
whose heat swarms
struggling grasses
gasping birds
the locked car
                                     cradling stifled baby

A sky this empty        devours

A sky is necessary only for marking the horizon of mortality,
just as immortality of sky necessitates the liturgy of superstition:
two pats of salted butter
a shot of whiskey
knock on wood

A sky this empty         is not sky         but decreation

July, 2016

Back to the Bone Pile

Image Courtesy of Circe Denyer