by David White
A couple of times since the closing of our retail print shop, Small Potatoes Press, I have wandered back to the beginning of my printing career to take a look around again at the road not taken.
In the summer of '74 I had my nose pressed up against the window of a pawn shop in Souix City, Iowa. It was a Sunday. Hanging on the other side of the glass was an electric guitar; a Les Paul Standard, white with gold hardware. The pawn shop was closed. I have polished that memory ever since.
Instead of going back to buy that handsome axe I contracted a printer for the production of my first book of poems. Sales were dismal. Marketing and distribution continue to be a nightmare for poets. The pivotal problem can be summed up in this question: "Who cares?"
However, the control over creation was the ultimate fascination for me and a mere eight weeks later I was installed in my very first employment in the printing trades. I had to be near the equipment. Simple as that.
Since that time, I have written and published more poems, and owned other guitars. It is now the end of 2001. The equipment package has changed and I have closed the little print shop.
Before the dozers come in
to clear your future
you'd be wise to hack a trail.
Excavate the road not taken
in the underbrush of your dreams.
Rekindle them now. Drop a match.
The sloths will find a new home.
I don't know about you. I'm looking for a new axe.
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