Blog Editor’s Note: At the AWP conference, I had the pleasure of attending the tribute to Roger Lathbury–one of the most humble people in the literary arts. After I heard 32 Poems John Poch share his tribute, I asked if he would be willing to share it here with you. Why not let more people hear about what Roger has done for poets and poetry.

John Poch’s tribute begins below:

Roger Lathbury began publishing books a long time ago. When he offered to publish my book seven years ago, I was ecstatic. I knew the quiet, but profound reputation that surrounded Orchises (and Roger). I also knew that he was a book lover and a word-lover of the first degree.

Why does he do this almost thankless job? In his words: “1983. Reagan was President, I was rail-thin, and the Cold War was still playing. No person had a computer because none were to be had. People read things called books. I thought, ‘America could use another publisher, and I want to get rich from poetry.’”

Even though he hasn’t gotten rich from poetry, Roger Lathbury continues to do what we, in this room, know to be an essential and necessary thing: to publish poetry. He is a wild man of literature, and to prove it, I’ll read an excerpt of a correspondence he sent me some years back: “Thanksgiving was all right: an afternoon of Warhol videos, some Chinese heroin, vodka soaked chestnuts…and then the President and Tipper Gore dropped by…The evening ended by their swinging our three cats at each other.” I love Roger Lathbury. Here’s a poem dedicated to him, a sort of mask of love meant to ward off any evil in the coming days.

FEBRUARY FLU

Month of the least death poetry,
I pity you: a bone of a day
once every four years tossed your way.
You bury it.

A fever coming on, a swoon
and syrup filling up a spoon.
There’s time for only one full moon.
You carry it.

The heart of you is candy hearts,
symmetrical, sans blood. Cruel arts,
Pandora’s chocolate box with chart:
you ferry it,

seven by four, across the air
in snowshoes, open it to share
the blizzard of love’s polar bear.
I marry it.