Several months ago, sauntering along the wooden sidewalks of Cedar Lake, Wisconsin, heading to Pierce’s General Store for our daily plug of tobacco, we were dismayed to overhear the following exchange between Miss D. and Mrs. M.:
"I sure do like readin’ the best of American poetry," Miss D. said, twirling her yellow parasol.
"I reckon so do I," Mrs. M. replied.
"But sometimes I ain’t got time to read a whole lit’rary journal," said Miss D., her hands now fiddling with the white ribbon in her hair. "And sometimes I just don’t know what them poets is getting’ at."
"It’s a lowdown shame," Mrs. M. agreed. "If only there was a press in town committed to printin’ the best of American poetry, but in a format handy for today’s busy frontier folk."
Well. We figured if hardy pioneers like Miss D. and Mrs. M. wanted a new kind of literary journal, then dadgum, we were just the ones to print it.
Around the ranch here, we’ve got a bunch of arborvitae trees growing. They’re evergreens with scaly leaves, and they smell pine-sweet in the fall. Our friend Dr. S., Professor of Linguistic Alchemy at Lonesome Desert College outside of Elko, Nevada, tells us that "arbor vitae" is Latin for "tree of life." Since we want our poetry to stay just as fresh as those trees (and smell just as good), we figured it was a fitting name. But if you ask us, we think that we shall never see a tree as lovely as a poem. You can tell that no-good upstart Joyce Kilmer to cram it.
Arbor Vitae is a bimonthly "broadzine"—that is, it’s like a magazine but very small, small enough for hardworking women like Miss D. and Mrs. M. to read it after they get done feeding the chickens. We seek to publish lively, accessible, engaging work—poetry to be read by bankers and farmhands alike. Presenting between three to six poems per issue, it will provide a compact, intense literary experience every two months—in short, the best of American poetry.
Arbor Vitae is handsomely printed on heavy 8 1/2" by 11" cardstock. Occasionally, the issue will feature some sort of special gewgaw, doohickey, or wangdoodle. For example, every subscriber to Issue 1 received a pencil rubbing of a Wisconsin architect's seal from 1931 in the lower-right corner of the issue. Who knows what will turn up at the ranch that will be included in a future issue?
Perhaps the best way to understand the idea and aesthetic of the broadzine is to look at a copy yourself. Why, we've gone so far as to put Issue 1.1, featuring work by Joshua Beam, Rob Eckert, and Charles Nevsimal, online in its entirety for your reading edification (PDF, 183k). Or, if PDFs don't tickle your palomino, you can take a gander at other sample poems by moseyin' to the bottom of this page. Now don't say we've never done anything for you.
Whether you make a living roping cattle, gunning down outlaws, making dinner for hungry cowpokes, dancing in the saloon, or hitting iron with a hammer, there’s room in your life for Arbor Vitae. Subscriptions are only $6 for six months (3 issues) or $10 for a year (6 issues).
Issue history:
Vol. 1, Iss. 1: Joshua Beam, Rob Eckert, Charles Nevsimal
Vol. 1, Iss. 2: F.J. Bergmann, Michael Kriesel, Erik Richardson
Vol. 2, Iss. 1: Cathryn Cofell, Mary Leary, Charles Nevsimal
Vol. 2, Iss. 2: Michael Johnson, Godfrey Logan, John Sweet
Vol. 2, Iss. 3: Thomas J. Erickson, John Grey, A.D. Winans, Mary Wehner
Vol. 2, Iss. 4: Kristin Alberts, Rob Eckert, Troy Schoultz
Vol. 3, Iss. 1: Karla Huston, Rob Plath, Ken Tennessen, Vicki Wilson
Vol. 3, Iss. 2: R. Virgil Ellis, Karla Huston, Michael Kriesel
Vol. 3, Iss. 3: Sarah Busse, Ron Czerwien, Rob Eckert, Noel Sloboda
Vol. 3, Iss. 4: Julie C. Eger, Charles Nevsimal, Charles P. Ries