Bright Soil, Dark Sun, my second book of poetry, is officially up for grabs.
Finishing Line Press accepted this book for publication way back in the hard to recall days of yesteryear.
Literally, yesteryear. It was last year. June, I believe. I was sitting on my front porch, drinking drugstore whisky and probably reading a book. Though there’s also a good chance I was just staring at the clouds over my neighbor’s house and thinking about…well, clouds. Like you do when you’re drinking drugstore whisky.
(Yes, I’m omitting the “e” in “whisky.” It seems unnecessary. And by that logic, the days of the “h” seem numbered.)
There are a number of things I tried to make happened with this book.
There is the balance of the inner and outer worlds, the ebb of self-centeredness into the stormy flow of the larger world.
There is a fusion of myth and modern, of politics and nightmares, of gods and fables. And underscoring all of them, the knowledge that nature–trees, dirt, wind, seasons–will be still be here when we’re not.
Bottom line, I didn’t want it to be just a collection of random poems or a gathered bunch of words. And I don’t think it is. It holds a harrowing, it speaks of a common journey that passes through light, dirt, and darkness.
I actually received my copies of the books last month. They’ve been in a box in my office. I’ve passed one or two copies on to friends, but for the most part, I’m a little afraid to touch them. Yes, afraid. I’m afraid that I’ll pick up a copy, open it to a random page, and find a ridiculous spelling error. Or decide that I just don’t like any of the poems. Or decide that not only do I not like any of the poems, but that two-ish years I spent writing them have produced nothing but a pile of verbal sludge.
I don’t think this is an uncommon fear, but I think it is a little irrational. I doubt the folks at FLP would invest in a book they thought was garbage. And the editors who accepted early versions of some of the poems into their publications had no trouble associating their name with my words.
Still, that lingering fear. I don’t want to open a copy.
I suppose that’s OK, since I already know what’s in there. The book is published, and now all that’s left is for people to read it. Which makes sense, it being a book and all.
A big Thank You to the folks at Finishing Line Press.
You can also just straight up ask me “Dude, what’s this book about?” I’ll give you an answer. Might not be the one you’re looking for, but it’s what I’ve got.