Jose says:

I've always had too many Craigs in my life. So
many, that they always  had to have nicknames to
keep them straight. In credit to his illustrious
(and craggy) name, I've never known any assholes
named Craig. How is that possible? Just ask anyone
named Richard how many Dicks the y know
(sorry Firmage!). Amazingly Crowthers never
required a nickname (though he would have
appreciated some crude ones no doubt). We always
knew when we were talking about him, probably
because his name was always associated,
positively, with poetry.

His name was always poetry. Goddess bless you
Craig for being an ever generous midwife to so
much creativity. I invented Compost Press as
an identity for all my publications when working
with him, because Craig made it possible for me to
publish poetry. I've been using Compost Press as a
creative outlet ever since, for nearly thirty
years. When I wasn't using the press just for self
expression, back in the day, Craig even helped
coyote out a Cadillac chapbook, The Collected
Poems of Mongrel, from Utah's poet laureate,
Ken Brewer, under the Compost rubric, by
scavenging fancy paper leftover from commercial
projects.

Here's an example of one of my early poems that
Craig helped expose to the public at large;
one that became part of a performance piece with
Experimental Floss twenty years ago and one that
embodies the elemental, trickster spirit senor
Crowthers. . .








When Coyote Releases The Ghost Forest

everything will become awkward
pencils impossible to grasp
paper invulnerable to ink
toothpicks taking root
and unfriendly furniture.
At the site of every stump
specters will rise up
like braided rain
climax barricades spreading
photosynthetic infections.
Even Coyote couldn't
lift his leg to pee
without sprouting leaves.

Best, Jose Knighton