I keep a certain picture of Vincent behind the counter at the bookshop: he’s sitting on the grassy lawn of our old house, studying a daisy in his fingers. Very sweet, yes?
Today, Lance took Vincent to the Magic Wings Butterfly Conservatory & Gardens in Deerfield. It’s large, it’s warm (a nice contrast to the wind & snow & cold outside), and swarming with butterflies.
There was a butterfly on the floor when they walked in. The first thing my boy, Vincent, the darling lover of nature, did upon seeing this actual, live, beautiful butterfly is run over and stomp it.
Apparently no one caught him committing his violent act, and they were there a while. Vincent ran around, whooped it up, caressed a lizard, and murdered no more.
But still! Sometimes he’s such a boy.
March is Small Press Month, and coincidentally enough I received my copy of Licorice, by Ellen C. Bush, published by Bull City Press, in the mail this morning. Licorice, at 24 pages, is, I believe, a chapbook, but it’s perfect bound, it has a spine, a gorgeous cover! If this is print on demand, it’s the best I’ve ever seen.
Sorry if I’m spending too much time on its appearance, but I’m a bookseller, and I think what houses the poems should match the contents in care and attention. And I’m really digging the poetry inside:
From “The Girl in Her”: That water is/ the cooled version of blood, running away from itself/ in a wet murmur.
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