Monthly Archives: November 2014

“Soundings” ~ a new book of haiku from St Brigid Press

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Emily Hancock of St Brigid Press, publisher of a few beautiful letterpress editions of works by This Here Poet, is releasing a new book this week entitled “Soundings.” The book consists of haiku and illustrations by Emily, the Founder of SBP. Check out the SBP site for more pics and info about the process. /JS

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Soundings with mountains

We are pleased to announce the publication of Soundings, a new book of haiku by Emily Hancock. Inspired by the beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains, where Hancock makes her home, this lovely book collects over 30 of her poems and 3 original linoleum block prints.

The title page of Soundings, on cream-colored Rives paper, with banana-leaf decorative paper facing.The title page of Soundings, on cream-colored Rives paper, with banana-leaf decorative paper facing.

One of 33 haiku by Emily Hancock, collected here for the first time.One of 33 haiku by Emily Hancock, collected here for the first time.

One of 3 three illustrations printed from original linoleum block carvings by the author.One of 3 three illustrations printed from original linoleum block carvings by the author.

Designed, hand-set, letterpress printed, and hand-sewn here at the Press in a limited edition of 85 books. Pre-order a copy HERE; books will be shipped on November 10th.

Each book is hand-sewn with linen thread.Each book is hand-sewn with linen thread.

Live text block fore edges.Live text block fore edges.

If you are in the area, please join us for the official Book Launch Reception and Signing ~ this Friday…

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Moonprint

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Moonprint

With a moon not yet full behind a sky not yet clear
a glowing handprint floats over the house

holds emptiness like a drifting welcome
closed to nothing always open to you

moonprint

The Stones

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The Stones

 

Winter begins in the stones. In a dream the sky house
gets closer as if it is trying to hear a secret or tell me one

but when I can read its lips I see it is just pretending.
In the car: stones from a trip to the beach.

A thousand miles from where we found them
for months they have rested in a drink holder

with no discernible nature acting on them,
no car tides or car gulls have hampered their stillness.

Now when we pick them up on a drive we marvel
at how cold they are on this mild first day of November.

You can press them to your hand, your neck, your cheek
and they stay cold. They are telling me a secret

without moving their lips or pretending to tell me anything.
They are coming closer without moving, like snow clouds.