So it's been a little rough lately for Great Weather as we had to say goodbye to our great friend and editor Brant Lyon. We'd like to thank everyone for their support during all this and your kindness. Brant will be missed. I've been reading his book lately "you are white inside" and there is so much more clarity in it for me since Brant's passing. It's almost like he knew this would be his final statement to the world in print. The more I read it the more it wrenches out my heart and sends it straight into my stomach and then the tears come. Well from this point on we shall continue our commitment to you as artists to keep this press going and helping you all to shine. Brant would have wanted that. If you take the time to listen to the trees, you can hear him. This was the poem that I wrote in his honor: wilting flowers always dance in the moonlight to the beat of each other’s poetry
So I remember this one night Bob Hart featured at Otto’s Shrunken Head
and he tore the roof off the place.
Anyone who was there had their poetic talents heightened
and learned how to write and perform poetry.
We were all in awe.
Bob Hart showed us the way and we walk it every day.
Then Bob told us he had written it just for that feature
and threw the poem away. It was only for one use
like this body.
Brant recovered it from the trash.
He had discussed turning it into a little Bob Hart chapbook.
Either way Brant understood the beauty of true art
and he always wanted to share in that by sharing just that.
I loved taking word baths in Brant’s myriad of phrases that opened parameters
around doors that never understood the word, closed.
Something about his way of thinking will always remain close to the heart
by filling the veins
turning them into poems
So it looks like no Brant word baths in my immediate future
but there is this body
that I consume
only to be used once
like wilting flowers dancing in the moonlight
like a Bob Hart poem.