The Poetry of Maggie Estep
“I used to be a miserable wretch but I realized this was an idiotic waste of time.”
Ripped apart by sunshine with the sky pouring down her throat, she was a fire-breathing hero of women, of writers, of speakers and preachers and people so ignited by life they had to spew it from the lung rafters. Maggie Estep is an inspiration to me—as she was to many young women of the ’90s—and to anyone desperate to throw their own words against the concrete. Because of her, I sought safety and solace in coffee shops, found catharsis in shouting ill-formed words of youthful vengeance to caffeinated strangers, and never once questioned the pervasive rage of my gender.
Though it’s a sad day for any of us who grew up with her magnificence, here she is full of happy.