Y' can't expect poetry to make much of an impression on a blank wall, can ya? It just bounces back. Like a tennis ball. I tried recitin' poetry at the Chamber of Commerce once, but they kept askin' for my credentials, so I finally pulled down my pants. They threw me out on the street. I guess I should consider myself lucky, cause if they'd've really liked me, I'd've had to stay for at least an hour more.

If you seek to track down the names, times, and places in my poems and place them on maps you will find yerself in much the same position as a man who tries to write his name on a rainbow with a ballpoint pen. It will elude him no matter how hard he tries. In a similar way, the chance to actually reach gutter minds that are set on nothin' but their own hungry need to command and dominate the moment continues to elude me. But I accept that. I am not sure if it accepts me.