What can YOU say in six sentences?
"So do you ever start out to write a poem and it turns into a song or vice versa?"
"Well, sometimes it turns into a painting."
As he speaks of the still point the dabblers in writing sift out the door while those of us who are hard-core remember the song he wrote about if wishes were horses, beggars would ride, and "I want your body like I want your heart."
And then there was the morning before when someone read aloud Terry Tempest Williams' Why I Write.
He is no longer my guru, though I consider him my mentor, and I mock him gently when he is pompous.
Still, he is who I think of as I stand in West Texas, in the lobby of the Holland Hotel at 2am, watching out the window as the deer walk down the railroad right-of-way through the middle of town.