the ottawa small press book fair : home edition #5 : Puddles of Sky Press,

Michael e. Casteels wrestles with robots in existential-crisis, dinosaurs that refuse extinction, alphabets in various stages of explosion/implosion, and many other serious topics, like century-long bus rides, and the way the clouds look right now. His first collection of poetry, The Last White House at the End of the Row of White Houses, was published in autumn of 2016 by Invisible Publishing, and a chapbook collaboration with Nick Papaxanthos is new with above/ground press. He lives in Kingston, where he runs Puddles of Sky Press.

Q: Tell me about your press. How long have you been publishing, and what got you started?

Puddles of Sky Press produces handmade chapbooks of poetry, with a focus on surrealist, minimalist, and concrete/visual poetry.

My friend Andrew Nurse and I started the press over 15 years ago when we were both living in Peterborough. We started it as an avenue to help one another publish poetry zines, which we distributed to friends and family. We shared production materials like staplers and paper cutters and printers, and when we could, we’d help with some printing costs for others. Through the press we also hosted a number of poetry readings in Peterborough.

When I moved to Kingston 10 years ago I continued publishing my work under the Puddles of Sky imprint. Through Stuart Ross, the 2010 Queen’s Writer in Residence, I became aware of the broader community of chapbook presses. With some encouragement from Stuart I began publishing work from other writers. I also became more focused on the quality of my publications—moving away from zine publishing, towards finer crafted chapbooks.

Q: How many times have you exhibited at the ottawa small press fair? How do you find the experience?

Over a dozen times now—I easily lose track of time, so I’m not sure of the exact number.

Sometimes, sale-wise, the fair can be hit-or-miss. Some fairs I’ll sell a whack of chapbooks, and some fairs I’ll hardly make my gas money back. But really, if I were in chapbook publishing to make money then I’d have been out of the game 15 years ago.

The best part about the Ottawa Small Press Fair is the community. Most of the folks I see there I only see there, twice a year. It’s my time to connect with other writers, peers, and friends. I’ve made some incredible relationships through the Ottawa Small Press Fair. They’re a welcoming bunch.

Q: Would you have made something specific for this spring’s fair? Are you still doing that? How does the lack of spring fair this year effect how or what you might be producing?

I usually base my production schedules around the Small Press Fairs. I’m a professional procrastinator. Usually the week leading up the fair has me awake until 2:30 a.m., proofing, printing, cutting, stamping, sewing, trimming, etc. I love that rush that leads up to the fair.

I had a few projects lined up for this June’s. One was rubber-stamped chapbook by MA|DE (a collaboration between Mark Laliberte and Jade Wallace).  Another was a self-published chapbook of new minimalist poems. These two projects are on the back burner for now. I’m waiting for the impulse to start working on them. Without that impulse I’d really feel like I was forcing the production, and that would take a lot of the fun out of the project. I’m certain that drive will arise at some point in the near future.

Q: How are you, as a small publisher, approaching the myriad shut-downs? Is everything on hold, or are you pushing against the silences, whether in similar or alternate ways than you might have prior to the pandemic? How are you getting your publications out into the world?

One project I have continued is the Puddles of Sky Postcard Series. I’ve published 4 postcards since March. I haven’t been selling any of them, but I’ve been sending them out to friends and family and other writers. It’s how I’ve managed to keep in touch. Rather than sending an email or a facebook message I just jot down a quick note and pop it in the mail. Having over 800 postcards on hand makes that pretty easy.

Q: Have you done anything in terms of online or virtual launches since the pandemic began? Have you attended or participated in others? How are you attempting to connect to the larger literary community?

To be honest, I’ve sort of retreated from the world for the past few months. I haven’t been on social media since mid-March, and I’ve been trying to curb my internet activities as much as possible. I’ve never liked video calls, so I’ve really cut myself off from the larger community for now.

On the flip side of this I’ve been incredibly productive with my own writing and visual art work. I feel like it’s been a good, and healthy retreat—sort of a social hibernation. I’m back to work now, so I imagine I’ll start reconnecting with the larger literary community before long.

Q: Has the pandemic forced you to rethink anything in terms of production? Are there supplies or printers you haven’t access to during these times that have forced a shift in what and how you produce?

All of my supplies are pretty easily accessed. Since most of my recent publications have been rubber-stamped, I have a surplus of materials to work from. I’ve probably got enough paper and ink to last me two or three pandemics.

Q: What are your most recent publications? How might people still be able to order copies?

The most recent publications are the new Puddles of Sky Postcards. Two from myself. One from collage artist Sean F’n Gammon. And most recently, an installment of jwcurry’s Welcome to Concrete Series. They’re not up on the website yet, but this interview is the push I need to update that, so expect to see them there soon.

Q: What are you working on now?

Right now I’m working on the 9^th draft of a novel. Working on a series of comic book collages. Plus writing postcards, typing letters, and slowly crawling out from my cave and re-entering the world at large. 

We Who Are About To Die : Michael e. Casteels

Michael e. Casteels is the author of over a dozen chapbooks of poetry, most recently Solar Powered Light Bulb & The Lake’s Achy Tooth (Apt.9 Press). His first full-length book of poetry The Last White House At The End Of The Row Of White Houses will be published in autumn of 2016 by Invisible Publishing. He lives in Kingston, Ontario where he runs Puddles of Sky Press.

Where are you now?

I’m in my office. Usually it’s very cluttered and messy. That’s the case right now. Actually this might be the most chaotic this room has ever been. I’ve got my computer in here, but this room also doubles as my music room/recording studio, as well as my Puddles of Sky Press printing room. I normally try and do a big clean and organization between projects, but I’ve let it go too far this time and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get it back in order. Sometimes my wife is frightened to enter. You need to know exactly where to step, where to duck and where to contort your body just to reach my desk. It’s actually quite perilous. I’ve been back here for days.

What are you reading?

I’m in the midst of re-reading The Collected Works of Billy The Kid by Michael Ondatje. This is probably the 5th or 6th time I’ve read the book in its entirety. Some of the poems I’ve read at least 20 times. It’s one of my all-time favourite books of poetry. I’m a big fan of the western genre in general. I love watching old spaghetti westerns, and I occasionally read those little pocket-westerns when I feel like something kind of mindless. The Collected Works of Billy The Kid is something I like to turn to when I’m in need of that western fix, but also in need of some writing with substance. 

What have you discovered lately?

I don’t know if ‘discovered’ is the right word as this was shown to me by my friend Nicholas Papaxanthos. It’s this way of frying tofu that involves coating the cubes in a thin layer of corn starch. It ends up coming out much crispier. Tonight I also experimented with adding a little curry powder to the mix. I used a little too much oil in the frying pan, but aside from that the tofu was delicious.

Where do you write?

I do most of my writing at the kitchen table where I can look out our front window. It’s a little easier to focus there. I do most of my writing by hand in my journal. All of my typing and editing happens here in my office. Today was the first day that I was able to write at a picnic table by the Cataraqui River. When it’s nice outside I tend to do most of my writing outside. I always have my journal with me. Often when I’m walking my dog I’ll end up stopping beneath a streetlight to jot down some notes. Once I found a desk on the sidewalk with a ‘free’ sign on it and I stopped there and wrote out a whole poem. My dog is very well-behaved and patient. I try to repay him by giving him lots of time when he finds something interesting to smell.

What are you working on?

I’m working on edits for my first full-length book of poetry that will be published this October with Invisible Publishing. It’s called The Last White House At The End Of The Row Of White Houses. Many of the poems have appeared in chapbooks over the years, and I’ve written a fair amount of new pieces too. There’s a combination of narrative-surreal poems that read like fables or tiny myths, and some poems that are more abstract and language driven.

Editorially I’m working on the 6th issue of a journal called illiterature. It’s an issue of one-word poems. I’m rubber-stamping a bunch of poems in it. Some poems will be printed on cards that are placed in envelopes that glued into the book. Some of the pages will fold out to reveal larger pieces. I like to challenge myself to create interesting book-objects to house such beautiful poems.

Have you anything forthcoming?

Aside from The Last White House At The End Of The Row Of White Houses I’ve got a few new poems forthcoming in NōD Magazine (published through the University of Calgary) as well as a poem forthcoming in Taddle Creek. All of these poems are from another project. It’s meant to be a novel in which each chapter is a prose poem.

What would you rather be doing?

Riding a wild mustang into the sunset amid cheers from the townsfolk now safe from the bandits that rustled their cattle and robbed their bank and killed their sheriff in cold blood.

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The Robot rides a bus

While crossing the street, a robot is hit by a bus. Small parts of the robot roll down a hill, frayed wires spark, lights flash. The bus driver kneels beside the robot and cries, “If I were a mechanic, you might have been repaired. If I were a priest you’d be blessed.” The robot attempts to raise an arm but there is only the grinding of gears, the leaking of oil. The robot tries to speak but its voice is garbled and growing faint. Its many lights flicker and dim as silence envelops the scene. A robot lies in the street. A crowd gathers. The driver, still on his knees, cradles the robot’s dented head.  The crowd closes in and hoists the robot to its shoulders. In a short procession they enter the bus. The driver wipes his eyes with a heavy sleeve and follows. The doors close. The bus lurches into gear and continues down the rolling hills, towards a  lake that is always in the distance.


Sonnet

The irises arrive, serene and swallowing
the orchard, the sultan seated beneath harvest.
Pupils dilate and ripen in this hinterland, this
salubrious work-in-progress. A pheasant
oscillates from treetop to treetop; the curtains
part and there she is, oh trembling heart,
oh hyperventilation! If I were a horse I’d
equilibrate, if a rhinoceros I’d radiate
tungsten. But I am only a salvaged typewriter
draped in seaweed; my bell no longer dings.
She is one dozen donuts. To blink would obliterate.
To drown in the ordnance of her synaesthesia,
I’d punctuate this moment with a phalanx of ampersands, I’d
lasso that golden sphere you sometimes see in the sky.