I feel like a mother about to have a baby—the excitement, the collaboration between publisher-printer-artist-writer—is everything I dreamed about when I started this publishing company! I want to thank the many supporters along the way, especially the people who don’t think I am crazy, and have celebrated the idea of a publisher working in harmony with the earth’s resources.
Brian D. Cohen and Holiday Eames have a WINNER on their hands—a book so beautiful in word and art it is breathtaking to look at and lovely to read. I am stunned and humbled that they choose to publish with us here in Vermont. But it all makes sense, really—a Vermont publisher, a Vermont-made book, a Vermont printer. Brian was invited to be one of the featured artists at the Burlington Book Festival—we will also have a booth at the Brattleboro Literary Festival, and a gala launch party and reading at Next Stage Arts in Putney featuring GWP authors: Brian D. Cohen, Holiday Eames, Patti Smith, Greg Delanty, and more…
We are very interested in talking to people about being part of our publishing company—and pardon our tardiness if we don’t get right back to you. We are doing our best! There is some talk about us doing a crowd-sourced fundraiser, from Kickstarter, or Indiegogo. If anyone is interested in helping with that, or giving us feedback, please contact us at email@example.com.
Also, on this day, poet Seamus Heaney has left us—a poet of such magnitude and compassion, I am stunned and saddened to hear the news. He lived and died in Dublin, Ireland, but I had the opportunity to hear him read and will never forget it! He won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1995.
His poem, Hofn, is going to be in our anthology, So Little Time, and poet Greg Delanty was instrumental in connecting GWP to the work of this great man. Our condolences to Seamus’ family, friends, and admirers. The world mourns.
The three-tongued glacier has begun to melt.
What will we do, they ask, when boulder-milt
Comes wallowing across the delta flats
And the miles-deep shag ice makes its move?
I saw it, ridged and rock-set, from above,
Undead grey-gristed earth-pelt, aeon-scruff,
And feared its coldness that still seemed enough
To iceblock the plane window dimmed with breath,
Deepfreeze the seep of adamantine tilth
And every warm, mouthwatering word of mouth.
Please join me in a very warm welcome for The Bird Book, a new book of verse and illustrations that will become a children’s classic, and also carry on a wonderful tradition of poetry.