Editing My Friend’s Poems
When my friends and I began our little book project back in December of 2018, we were doing it mostly for ourselves. We had been having fun with our freshly-launched open mic during New Bedford’s AHA Nights, which saw all sorts stepping into the Co-Creative Center to share their poems with us. My friend Nick LeBlanc had already been working hard as the editor/publisher/distributor of Domesticated Primate (DP), an independent small press that was focusing on projects that didn’t quite fit in with traditional publishing interests. I’d been helping out with social media for DP, and it just seemed like a logical pairing between poets and art nerds that were already trying to D.I.Y their way into print.
That first tiny booklet was thirteen pages, staple-bound, and I created the cover art with a rubber stamp from Michael’s and a metallic gold Sharpie. The pages dried all over the living room of my tiny apartment just upstairs from the gallery.
In the following years, we’ve recreated the magic over and over again. I’ve watched a friend from high school read a poem about her journey into motherhood, her voice cracking softly as she read about her strength and her little daughter’s. I watched more seasoned poets command our attention with nothing more than their voices.
It feels like our own holiday tradition, the continuation of a legacy of making art happen in New Bedford.
When 2020 came in like the seismic shift it was, we pivoted to the digital world - open mics on Zoom, and PDF’s of our little books. I took over the job of editor for Tidings 2020, at the end of a year that had been so cruel to so many of us. I was grieving family members, the life we had known prior, the person I had been before. But then familiar names began popping into my inbox, sharing their poems with me. I read of love, of grief, of joy…and just like that, my community was there to hold me. Those bits and pieces of art kept my head above water during a moment when I felt overwhelmed by not only my personal grief, but the speed of life carrying on. Even in that dark moment, there were reasons to celebrate - reasons to write poems.
In the last few years, the books have taken on a life of their own. The website Duotrope picked us up and distributed our calls for art out to a world-wide audience. We’ve published poets and artists from countless points on the map, including Ireland, Singapore, and Uganda, just to name a few. The art still contains the spirit of that first book - some spiritual, some irreverent, some just flat-out weird. They all find a home in our pages, creating brilliant tapestries of experience and emotion.
I consider it a great honor that people are willing to share their art with me, to allow me to include their work in the books I curate, and to distribute those books to the wider world on their behalf. I’ve been lucky enough to publish very young poets who are just finding their voices alongside the seasoned and powerful voices of our elders. That friend from high school has gone on to publish her own collection of poems. Nick is now a Dad to two little girls, and his work levels you with every line. I’ve watched poets find their voices again after long years of silence. I’ve witnessed the strength of an artist’s work develop and grow across seasons, and that also pushes me to be a better artist.
A writer’s dream often includes the big book deal or the accolades from impressive foundations and institutions. I think deep down we all want that for our art. But it’s my hope and ambition to make my friends, the artists of the Southcoast, feel that same sense of pride and accomplishment right here at home. As I prepare our newest book, Tidings 2025, for publication I’m looking again at our stats: 120 pages, 75 different artists - and quite a few of the same names that appeared in Tidings 2018. The work continues for them.
For more info about Anomaly Poetry and our efforts, please visit www.anomalypoetry.com!
