Quote:

“A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.”--Martin Luther King

Sunday, December 18, 2011

A Year in the Life--Big Doings

(The Round Bend logo, attributable to my love of the sound)

The fragmented story of Round Bend's past year continues...

In March, Charles Deemer was already jazzed about the book of poems we agreed to publish through Round Bend. I'd read some early poems at his blog, Writing Life II. He hadn't finished the book, but thinking ahead, he created this initial cover design.

Nice, we decided. But the book, In My Old Age, was about the gray years. Growing old isn't always a colorful experience--Deemer worked the cover over and came up with this:

While Deemer worked on his book, K.C. Bacon and I were perfecting Morandi's Bottles, the Tacoma resident's second Round Bend outing. A proof arrived in mid-March and we opened the book to sales at Lulu and Amazon in short order.

Click on the image at the sidebar and browse the first pages of Bacon's book. If you like poetry, you'll be as excited as I was to have a copy.

March also brought a day of remembrance as I recalled my great friendship with Roger Blakely III, who died in a tragic accident the previous year. I miss Roger to this day, of course. One never gets over the tragedy of a good friend dying too young.

Roger was 41.

But the Round Bend work carried on, as I redesigned the cover of my Four Absurd Plays, using a painting by Charles Lucas that I learned was one in a series he had recently painted on ceramic.

When I saw the entire collection, we immediately began to discuss how the press might bring the series forth in a special art publication, a variation from the work produced here in the past.

More on Charles Lucas later in this account, along with another poet, a fellow Charles Deemer knows very well and whom Deemer always claims is "the real poet in the family."

Of course, I'm convinced Charles and his brother Bill are both poets to the bone, but who wants to quibble?

(to be continued)


TS

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