I first had the manuscript accepted about a year ago, and the set release date was a few weeks back, but now, here it is, physical, in my hands.
It was an odd feeling yesterday. The only other time I can think of where I felt exactly that way was the day we decided to tell our friends and family that I was pregnant with our first baby. This sudden desire to keep it to myself—fear of being exposed, examined, revealed in some way.
Many of the poems in KMS have been in journals and chapbooks before—but there was always this comfortable distance. I send poems to faceless editors who send unaccented emails with a yes or no. then comes journals who are read by no one I know. this assuring anonymity.
I could give you all of the reasons I wrote this book and why I write—reasons having to do with philosophy of worship and work, noticing the world, relating to others—but the real reason I wrote this book?
Writing brings me joy. and I want, so much, to write poetry my readers enjoy reading.
my sister has a copy on her bedside table now, faraway, in a city I’ve never lived in. I think of her there, flipping through the pages, seeing where oh yes, that was the time that and yes, he said that but in another way.
And I hope that she—representation of who I am really writing for, not academia or poets or literary magazine editors—but my true audience, my family and friends and loves—my hope is that she will read this book, connect with it, and enjoy it.
and I hope that you will enjoy it too, reader.