By Tim Van Schmidt

Publishing this collection of poetry, “Found: 29 Poems,” on the Internet is as significant a step as the day I discovered the copy machine as a publishing device.

Actually, it was a poet friend of mine named Alva who clued me in to the copy machine. In 1978, I was in my last year of college at the University of California in Santa Barbara and I was part of a small circle of poets and artists who could have been called activists. We weren’t satisfied with just making art, we wanted to get it out to the public, so it was in keeping with that spirit that Alva declared that he was going to publish a collection of poems. I was astonished when a couple of days later he gave me his photocopied publication. He had successfully gotten his work into other people’s hands and I wanted to do the same. My first self-published photo copy project became a collection of poems titled “A Winter House.” The copy machine, in fact, became my best friend in dozens of publishing projects for years afterwards.

In 2009, this is like that- an “aha” moment- only this time the Internet is my best friend. Maybe it’s called the Web, I don’t know- it’s whatever you call this brave new world of publishing in cyber space. I’m well acquainted with it- I’ve been running several Web sites for years- publishing rock and roll photos and reviews and such. I’ve even put up some poetry- like on the site for my poetry performing group, TVS and two fingers- even audio files of the band work. But freely indulging the luxuriousness of publishing a full collection of my poetry on the Internet now- my first such project- strongly recalls my photo copy roots.

That’s because the freedom to present whatever I want is the same. For five cents back then, I could make a copy of anything I wanted to lay out. For a little bit of effort and some Web hosting fees today, I can do the same thing- and not even have to go to the copy shop. And not even have to hand paper to people. All I have to do is tell people about it and they can access it anytime, anywhere. It’s a precious freedom for an artist and I thought it was high time I took advantage of it poetically.

The title poem for this collection of poetry, “Found,” was written on the occasion of my first visit to a boys’ residential treatment center in the mountains west of Denver. TVS and two fingers were guest poets for a poetry therapy program at the facility, which was called Lost and Found. I wanted to do something for just that moment, just for those kids, so I wrote a poem that I presented that night. I figured that the kids had heard plenty about being lost, so I wrote about being found. The poem seemed especially poignant to head up this collection because it is about recognizing what it is you have and the personal power that recognition yields.

The rest of the poems I collected together for this effort- sifted down from a pile of possibilities to the odd number of 29 choices- have shuffled themselves into little groupings I have given headings to. The act of publishing this online has in itself suggested this structure. I mean, rather than give each poem its own tab- a little bit of type splayed out across an otherwise barren wasteland of unused space- it made sense to put some poems together on the same page. The pieces loosely suggested associations with each other and with some vague nod to theme the section titles appeared. Looking at the publishing plan scrawled out on paper, this collection has become something new- different from a book made of paper. This is not a physical product that conforms to the strictures of buying and reading. Rather, this is a juncture of word energy, arranged in digital code to be accessed by a curious anonymous world at will- or not.

But this art won’t be “found” if it isn’t available. The Internet is the new dream of the active artist and I present “Found: 29 Poems” with high expectations. It’s like stepping into a river of possibilities. It’s like spreading apart the curtains to let in the strange sunshine of the unknown. It’s like putting up a flag to find the wind that surely must come sooner or later. This is an act even better than making photo copies, vibrating with the opportunity to make this poetry live in so many ways.

Here are a few notes about the rest of the pieces in “Found: 29 Poems”:

Imaginary Things: or everyday things that spark the poetic imagination, like raking leaves, worn out shoes and tasty pastries.

Nature Speak: “Speaking for Rock” is about hiking in Wyoming, “Reward” and “Fire” came from camping in Northern Colorado and “Desert Blooms” from driving through the Arizona desert during a particularly spectacular spring.

Not Random Notes: “Every Morning” was written during a workshop/performance by Robert Bly.

Inner Space: “The Untrodden Snow of the Moon” was inspired by HG Wells’ book “The First Men in the Moon.” “God Sitting on a Rock” is another Colorado hiking poem- and then some- and “Solitaire” was written after glimpsing a solitary windmill in a ruined homestead in the grasslands of Eastern Colorado.

Across the Desert: “In Memory of Betty Shearer” was sparked by a roadside sponsorship sign and “Dragoon Road” is a rugged-looking exit near the otherworldly rock formations of Texas Canyon, east of Tucson, regionally close to Cochise’s stronghold.

Face of Tragedy: it’s not natural to look at life without admitting pain. I wrote “Stay Out of the Area” the day after the Columbine High School attack. I had flown to Tucson that morning from Denver and the news media in Arizona was just as shocked as it was in Colorado. “Shower” is about 9/11 and “Scattered” about joining in an ash spreading ceremony in the mountains for a musician friend who had passed on.

Certain Change: it is inevitable.

Thanks for searching out and reading independent poetry. Thanks times 29!!

May 2009