“Pitcher of Moon” finally published!

“This world of dew

is a world of dew,

And yet, and yet”

—–Kobayashi Issa (Japan, 1763-1828)

from the frontpiece of “Pitcher of Moon”

 

And a new poem, “Darwin’s Worms” from the book.

“Pitcher of Moon” has been almost a year in the making. Nick Nicholson, a long time friend from Australia took on this project and produced a lovely book.  He did the design, the formatting and all the interfacing with Createspace and the cover photographer, Gary Hart.  Nick did much more and without his hard labor, this book would have not come to life.

Gary Hart  (www.garyhartphotography.com) was the photographer Nick picked and  bought the rights to use this photo for the cover of the book.  Gary Hart was very generous to us as I could have not afforded his usual price for his photographs.  I am very thankful for his kindness and generousity.   Please check out his website.

I have just received the proof copies and after approval here will AOK them for sale on Createspace.   Should be a matter of days or a week before it is available.  Those who have bought my previous  three books from Lulu.com will notice that I have jumped ship.  Lulu was fine for a while, but Createspace offers a lot more for writers.   Nick and I intend to bring over all three previous books (A Seasoning of Lust, The Zar Tales and White Cranes of Heaven) to Createspace in time.  Later this spring, we will also be publishing “The Nightingale’s Song”  at Createspace.

It is so good to have this project finally done.  Without Nick,  I would still be moving in a circle.  Nick cut through all the issues and I am deeply appreciative of his creativity.

Lady Nyo

The end poem of “Pitcher of Moon”….

Darwin’s Worms 

 

The soil has lost its excellence.

Worms  hide in the  

Deep sullen earth

I imagine curled up,

Embracing worm castings

And each other,

Desiccated former selves

Pale little ghosts

Awaiting the fertility of spring

The watering of a hard rain.

 

I squandered the bloom months,

Thinking paper and pen

Would bring its own blossoming

Scarcely seeing the vitality outside

Windows,

Allowing cabbage moths and beetles

To dominate

My nod to farming,

To self-sufficiency,

My tithe to the earth.

 

Ah, the soil is hardened

By the sins of the season.

Sharp winds make

furrows 

The cold buries down,

Deep, deep down

Torments, teases any life

That  would show a feckless head.

 

Especially those hopeful worms

Now bundled in worm-sleep.

 

The words, verse,

I chose to cultivate

Over cabbage, collards

Failed to bloom.

Better I had plied the hoe

And bucket to that

Than a fevered pen

To paper.

 

It is now winter

And the fallow earth

Plays a waiting game

Knows I have failed

In pulp and soil

And mocks with a barrenness

I feel inside and out.

 

Jane Kohut-Bartels

Copyrighted, 2014

 

With special thanks to Adam Phillips for the title of this poem.