As many of you read last year I decided that it was time for me to start wrapping up publishing my poetry. It’s been a fun 30 years (I was first published at 14 in 1994, in the community newsletter–a poem about school shootings, warning the world well before they became the weekly norm). Now, middle aged, I simply don’t write much poetry anymore; the poems don’t come as easily as they used to and I’m not much for a fight these days. I also do not have the patience it takes to submit and wait and get rejected and submit again and get one published and then three more rejected. I admire the folks that stick that out. While I still read poetry books month after month (I love waking up in the morning and grabbing the latest poetry collection off of my nightstand and reading for an hour)—and while I’ll continue to promote the work of others especially all of you that you already know I am a huge fan of, in Summer 2025, to celebrate my 45th birthday, I’ll release my last completed poetry collection, Every Ghost Dwells A Place to Haunt.
Prior to that, though, I’m excited about the forthcoming rerelease of my 2016 book Champagne, which was available for only four weeks and in a square format. This new reissue in a traditional trade paperback will allow the book to be more widely accessible for purchase for my cute little cult followers and anyone else who stumbles upon its poison. Then, in January 2025, the 15th Anniversary edition of my first book, This Beautiful Bizarre, will be available widely for the first time (you currently have to hunt pretty hard to find a copy but I’ll help you out: lulu.com). The story of getting TBB published is not one I enjoy retelling but here we go.
In 2006, just before my 26th birthday, I signed a book deal with Q Press, a publishing company in Portland, Oregon. I was to be one of their first published authors. This Beautiful Bizarre was scheduled to be released about four months after I signed the contract. Press releases were sent. Newspaper and blog articles were written. Four months came and went and the publisher, whose two main editors were like oil and water and always at each other’s throats, continued to delay the book. After a year, Q Press folded and the book went unpublished. I was thoroughly disappointed, as were many other authors that had signed with them.
Following that, another publishing company was being born and asked me to be their first publication. I was delighted. But then the Great Recession happened and the publishing company never got off of the ground. I’m actually not mad at them; I mean what small business could weather such horrible years those were. Many didn’t.
Realizing my talent for design and also my ability to manage a business (it’s my day job), I decided to form my own private publishing company, Moon Ice Press, and release my own damn book. Back then, in 2009/2010 when I decided then executed this idea, self publishing was frowned upon, so much that self published books aren’t eligible for most awards (not that I’m in it for awards). In today’s culture of look-at-me TikToks and what not, it’s easier to release your own work and be successful at it. I’ve enjoyed writing, designing and publishing my books over the years, yet have no plans to add other author’s work to Moon Ice Press. You deserve the big presses and dedicated small presses to help get your dreamy, queer tomes out to the masses.
Sticking with tradition, I can’t tour and I can’t give poetry readings—I just can’t get up in front of audiences like that, but I’m always happy to grab a coffee or drink with anyone when we are in the same area; I also happily attend poetry readings, including your cute little Zoomy Zoom ones. So these poetry books of mine will simply be released to the wild and I’ll mention it here and there and that’s that. I plan to continue to focus my artistic time on my fiction work (I’m writing a vampire novel) and on my autobiography (which is grueling and reflective) while focusing on getting healthier. Naturally, my visual art remains my main game right now.
When I was in my 20s I read somewhere—probably on Blogger—that so many poets dry up in their 40s. I never forgot reading that and some 20 years later I’m pretty dried up. I admire those of you that keep going, giving us fresh work every few years. One of my blogger poet friends, Brent Goodman, disappeared years ago. I couldn’t find him anywhere on social media or what not. I asked fellow poets, “Hey, have you heard from Brent Goodman?” The last time he and I spoke he was prepping his third poetry manuscript. Then suddenly, he was gone. After years and years of searching I found him about a year and a half ago. He’s simply enjoying his second chance at life following his heart attack, and someday perhaps he’ll publish poetry again.
Having said all of that, in closing, I want to say to the small niche of people out there that have read my poetry over the years, thank you. I’ve appreciated the support over the rocky roads that led to here.
xx
Montgomery Maxton
Montgomery Maxton 
Leave a comment