Been cleaning out paper this weekend. Redecorating a space or two, keeping my hand in and my eye alive, saying hello to the books. I found this poem copied on the back of a handbill for a New Year’s show at the Grand Ave Ale House that the High, Wide, and Handsome Band did a few years back. The quote on the front of the handbill, superimposed on a photo of a man dressed in marching band regalia and wearing a clown nose, reads:
“the barwalker was the type of drunk who was not happy unless he was up on a sagging bar, arms akimbo, dancing a cossack dance and kicking over glasses of beer.”
– Joseph Mitchell
The poem on the back, which I cannot remember copying down, is by a woman I’ve not heard of, and untitled:
I will not live an unlived life./ I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire./ I choose to inhabit my days,/ to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid, more accessible,/ to loosen my heart/ until it becomes a wing, a torch, a promise./ I choose to risk my significance;
to live,/ so that which came to me as a seed/goes to the next as a blossom,/ and that which came to me as blossom,/ goes on as fruit.
– Dawna Markova