Famous


We’ve had some loss in the community this week, and it’s really hard to reconcile. Reach out when the dark begins to close in, sometimes just being in the company of other breathing laughing crying souls is what it takes to make it another day. This Friday October 20th at 7 pm, come join us at Gallery B for a performance and exhibition by Veteran and Active Duty artists. It’s free and open to the public and the audience makes all the difference. Check out the Facebook event here (and share it widely please). I have so many things to tell you and so little time to tell it. But look at these giant kids at the pumpkin patch. Aren’t they fantastic? Everyone else had toddlers in tow but we had these easy to pose brilliant creatures we grew from scratch. 

This poem below is so so so good. Read it. What do you want to be? 20 minutes. 

Famous

The river is famous to the fish.
The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.
The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.
The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.
The idea you carry close to your bosom
is famous to your bosom.
The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.
The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it
and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.
I want to be famous to shuffling men
who smile while crossing streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiled back.
I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it could do.

 

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