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Now Published—'Slow Business'
I published a poetry collection. Buy a copy today!
Today I hit “publish” on Slow Business, the collection of poems written during my father’s illness.
You can find and purchase a copy here.
I hope you grab one.
(Pro tip: they’re great stocking stuffers – or, give one copy to someone every night of Hanukkah.)
Here’s the copy I wrote to describe the book:
What is the gift inside this slow business of death?
In poems both big-hearted and furious, Joey Rubin stands in witness to the harsh realities of his father’s dying and asks questions no one wants to ask in language that refuses to hide – even from itself.
Tracing the experience from the initial diagnosis to last breath, these verses navigate the interlocking and non-linear nature of grief: from disbelief to reverence, from seething rage to deepening awe.
This is a collection of poems for those seeking solace in their understanding of mortality; for those grappling with the complexities of paternal love and its inevitable loss; and for those moved by a fractured story – one that makes only as much sense as the human experience itself.
“These poems are not for the faint of heart; they’re for the robust heart. The heart that craves the truth of what it feels like to walk beside a man who is dying. The heart that yearns to stand beside a soul facing death, yet brimming with life.”
Bu don’t take my word for it – you’ve read many of these poems already and you can re-read them here:
The book includes these poems with revisions and changes, along with 20 other poems never-before released to the world.
Plus, it’s pretty, and you can hold it in your hands without starting at a screen.
(Have I sold you yet?)
When I started this newsletter – back in August of 2020 – I thought I was writing about creativity. Turned out, I was being creative. I rode the waves of that creativity into a space I hadn’t anticipated: to writing about my father, his illness and death, and my own grief surrounding that experience.
While I expect I’ll carry that grief forever, publishing this collection written about and informed by that time is a way to close that chapter - at least creatively.
Which opens up another question: what to do with this newsletter going forward – and what, if anything, to do with the 75,000+ words I’ve published here?
Well… I don’t know the answer that question yet!
For now, I’m going to sit with it all, re-read what I’ve created, and let myself imagine what might come next.
Perhaps I’ll get back to work on that elusive novel, or reboot this newsletter in a different vein (perhaps closer to its original intent), or write another collection of poems. Perhaps I’ll do something else altogether. Something involving dinosaurs, or hats. Maybe I’ll start a brand new project I’ve yet to imagine or dream about.
Whatever it is, I will be letting you all know right here via this newsletter when it takes shape. So don’t fret, and don’t you dare unsubscribe.
I’ll be quiet for a while. And then I’ll come back as loud (and charming) as ever.
In the meantime, go grab the book of poems. And let me know when you do (email me about it at firstname.lastname@example.org). It would mean the world to me.
Yours in creativity,