I am learning to talk less and say more. Please be patient with me. I have been involved in the following 'professions' in close order: reader.writer.painter.sculptor.metalsmith.glassblower.faceter. shadetreemechanic.laborer.curator.guitarist.songwriter.singer. composer.pauper.representative.associate.designer.assistant. buyer.manager.salesman.consultant.owner.operator.driver. networker.booker.traveler.producer.engineer.actor.photographer. editor.videographer. And I still haven't found what I'm looking for. I have drank deeply, loved passionately, and been mistaken greatly. I climbed Lemon Mountain in Tucson Arizona, put XXX on Marie Laveau's grave in New Orleans and kissed lipstick on Oscar Wilde's in Paris. I have been in a snowstorm in 80 degree weather in the desert in summertime, hit with hailstones the size of a lemon in a Florida thunderstorm and one time checked into the fifth floor of a hotel a couple hours before the hurricane's eye passed overhead. I have been VIP in Las Vegas because of mistaken identity and thrown out of 3 clubs in Hollywood because they didn't like the look of me. I have been slipped poison in my whiskey at the Lexington Queen in Tokyo Japan, fought Edwin Mccain on a cruise ship (and lost), had my nose broken by a power line while running with an armfull of red bricks, and survived being chased by a pack of wild boars in the woods. After all this I still feel that what separates the civilized and uncivilized is mainly a pocket handkerchief and nice boots.
I have a heart on the mend and a 64' stingray in repair, both will be lovely when completed.
You
Swathed in the coal embers of sleep
Buried in blankets and otherwise
Under warm ocean depths
Gasp occasional half thoughts and names
From beneath and above I hear these efforts
And beg silently that those words and names
Are mine
