The sweetest thing.

I couldn’t tell you exactly why I associate this pretty pop song, “The Sweetest Thing” by Camera Obscura every time I think of Dale. Then again, it’s obvious… my life so much sweeter with him then without, the loving care and abiding friendship between us (along with his partner, Hoa Nguyen), our mutual affection for poets we read/know, good poetry, a song that makes us smile, stop, listen, mezcal, the slog, making ends meet, always celebrating along the way. I can picture us two-stepping to this track, him in cowboy boots, me a ball-cap.

Some of our finest, prettiest work — KFB publications I’m truly proud of — have centred around the poetry of Dale Martin Smith. His Sons, one of our earliest chapbooks (2017) and subsequent broadside (both designed by Norm Nehmetallah, one printed at Coach House, the broadside at Cuneiform) are exactly why I became a poetry publisher to begin with. To create tactile beauties I wish read, hold dear.

Then, Blur (2022). The definition of poetry chapbook. Perfect in every way.

And now, The Size of Paradise (2024, distributed by Asterism Books), this poet’s decade-long undertaking, this beauty of a book-in-hand, designed by R. Kolewe, printed by John de Jesus at Coach House, whom I have had the distinct pleasure to work with over the years. Fineries, my loves. Thank you.

That we find ourselves here, longlisted for the Griffin. An unexpected delight. Richly deserved.

Dale continues to show/teach me so much about all of the above, (funny, my tired/aging eyes read “all about love”), a life in poetry. I can’t help but think of Montaigne on friendship: “If you pressed me to say why I loved him, I feel that it cannot be expressed, except by replying, because it was him and because it was me.”

Congrats my beautiful friend.