So you’re a poet eh? What kind of things do you like to write about? Where do you find your inspiration in this world? Where do you look? When I was a child, livin’ in Wyoming. I watched her fingers trace the stars. As if her dreams could be seen at the end of her finger tips. And I looked up at the stars with her. I saw her thoughts everywhere she pointed. I saw her life in the grooves of her fingernails. She would whisper as she leaned into me, and I saw what I was supposed to see. And I didn’t even really have to look.

So you’re a traveler. Where’ve you been headin’ these days?  I’m not just talkin’ about getting’ aboard a big old jetliner and flyin’ cross the ocean. Traveln’ ain’t just a physical thing. It’s a mental thing. In it you can get really really lost. And the hard part about being lost when you’re travelin’ in your mind is that you’ve got no real way of askin’ for directions. You’ve got no chance at findin’ a map. You’ve got no one that knows where you are and no one can tell you where you are going. Because for the kinda travelin’ I’m talkin’ about there is no map.  There is no way to get where your goin’ without traveln’ on yer own for a while. There is no way to swim to shore when your drownin’.  See.  So all this traveln’ is really probably one of the toughest things of all. It’s a little different than ridin’ around with a fat wallet, a ham sandwich, and a Starbucks. It takes a lot longer than jumpin in a jet for a cruise and gettin’ a great view of the seat in front of you.

I’ve been changin’ up my schedule these days. Been gettin’ home a little earlier and wakin’ up a little earlier. That’s what’s getting me here to write this way. Probably soon, I’ll begin to unearth all the late night words that I’ve written over the last few years on my typewriter. And I’ll pull them out and pair them up with all these 35mm photographs I’ve taken along the way. And I’ll have a little reflective thing. And I’ll know that I’ve traveled.

.

.