There was a certain kind of voice I listened to back in the 70’s.  I wasn’t one for classic poets – no one was there to read me those lines. So like Kerouac, I hitched down the road and picked up images and words along the way.

Leon Russell was one of those singing poets I could sit for. Maybe that’s why I also segued into the raspy tones of a Tom Waits or the written growl of Charles Bukowski.

“I’ve been so many places in my life and time…”

It’s a quiet Saturday morning…