from bed, rehearsed

I learned to write from Whitman

Scratch that

I write because of Whitman

and Dylan

not Thomas, though he knows who bores me

The other two taught me that lines don’t end

Songs can last longer than three minutes

And people will come back to find meaning

If they feel something

That’s all I want

To feel

For you to feel

Loafing and easing 

Words that gain momentum are less about what is said

And more an inspiration to continue asking questions

The why of it all


Driving street cars with strangers can fulfill the most basic needs, knowing the intention is what builds the supportive beams and I would rather do the mundane and know the reason than climb up a mountain only because it’s in season

Why do I write?

The answer is benign and trite

I want you to hear me

I want you to notice the hand print in my cave and wonder

What made him come out?

Whitman knows what my story is about

And Bob


He knows too

So do you 

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