Making “Thank You” by Ross Gay

If you find yourself half naked
and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing,
again, the earth's great, sonorous moan that says
you are the air of the now and gone, that says
all you love will turn to dust,
and will meet you there, do not
raise your fist. Do not raise
your small voice against it. And do not
take cover. Instead, curl your toes
into the grass, watch the cloud
ascending from your lips. Walk
through the garden's dormant splendor.
Say only, thank you.
Thank you.

Ross Gay

//

I cannot think of better words to lead or end with. I'm over the moon grateful to have been able to make this broadside. I have long admired Ross' work and wondered after a project with him. This poem landed in my life as a gift, read by Ross at a fundraiser for the Pongo Poetry Project. We donated copies to Pongo to support their important work with youth and poetry.

While printing this piece, in the literal act of making, I had the strangest feeling that this broadside already existed. Like I found it rather than made it. I've experienced this before but I still cannot explain it. I worked long hours and my body remembers the making. Many proofs were pulled and much doubt came to play as I struggled through the design process, more exhausted each day. Yet suddenly, it arrived. Locked into place as if it could be, had been, no other way. A good friend standing next to me confirmed.

And so we printed madly, and now I offer it up to you: Thank You.