The truth is: I am a slow and meticulous writer. As one of my teachers observed after reading one of my poems in a workshop session: “David is a chiseler.” At the time, I remember feeling more than slightly offended ("A chiseler?"). Now, later in life, I realize just how accurate and intuitive that teacher was. I am indeed, whether I like it or not, a chiseler. I have been working on this singular book of poems, slowly and methodically, for over a decade. And, to be honest, I couldn’t be more astonished at the inventive ways in which these poems have blazed their own paths. It's part of that weird part of writing poems where it no longer becomes you who is writing any individual poem. They are finding their own voice. And while I have had success publishing several of the, er, finished poems when I felt the urge to do so—and being considered along the way a finalist for a number of respected poetry book prizes, including the National Poetry Series and the Yale Younger Open Competition—I have often wavered and held many of the poems back instead of seeking publishing credits, perhaps to my discredit. There always seemed to be more chiseling. In any case, I've finally reached the end. About 6 months ago, I started a new series of poems and am happy with the final versions I have. Whew. Now I am seeking your help to find eventual publication for this highly emotional project . I truly appreciate all of your support, no matter how large or small. Please share this campaign on your Facebook wall.
As a gift from me, anyone who donates $15 or more will receive a limited-edition poem from the collection. I plan to print the unpublished poem "My Stranger, Dying" (see complete poem below) and mail it you, hand-signed, after this campaign closes. The poem will look very handsome framed and hung in your living room, bathroom, garage, etc. It will make an excellent gift for friends and loved ones. The poem will be printed on thick, natural paper and hand-numbered out of a total limited run of only 100 copies. The poem will be made by myself with the help of Portland, Oregon’s Independent Publishing Resource Center (IPRC) and will be of letterpress quality.
Thanks so much for helping me publish this book and supporting poetry and the arts! Here is the poem that I will be printing and sending with a donation:
"My Stranger, Dying"
We are stripped and made to gauze up.
I’m sorry, I meant to say gaze up. But notice
it’s never written like that, most words, as if
they were the ones choosing, not us. For once,
let’s just be honest with ourselves. Our steel
and plastic helicopters sever the air, rescue us
from strange, abandoned cliffs, difficult-to-arrive-at,
where whole or in part they cart us home
to mostly unaware loved ones; our lucid film
exposes, in its windowless rooms, our beautiful hands,
the fingers mostly never tied or beaten into mash;
and there are voices out there that reach us, sometimes
assure us, even, things lost may someday be recovered.
My friend, these are wonders, of which
we should be forever thankful. But the lit-up
great dying crane of neighborhood now nudges and
lifts you onto its wings, you and your veined arms,
a minor study of capillaries and appendages.
A monument toppled by scared and irreverent armies.
Yes, she says, I will carry you and plummet
into the wet earth that opens for you a hole.
A thousand hummingbirds shall be laid to rest.
A thousand hummingbirds, upright.
- Martha King
- George Roberts
- D A Powell
- Mary Frances
- Colleen Genuine
#1 fundraising platform
More people start fundraisers on GoFundMe than on any other platform. Learn more
In the rare case something isn’t right, we will work with you to determine if misuse occurred. Learn more
Expert advice, 24/7
Contact us with your questions and we’ll answer, day or night. Learn more