Thank you so much, J. All true, of course; however, in poetry, all readers can see only what they can interpret from their particular viewpoints, their own life experiences, and thus, their “interpretation” is valid only as possible truth, their truth — but actual truth can be diametrically opposite: The muse is the hero: eight years gone, killed by pain, and now, with the HELP of the morphine, is finally the resurrector. Then, of course, the morphine itself must be, and was, vanquished, and the man is back. For now, at least. In a situation like this, nothing is permanent. Try it from that viewpoint.

I already replied, but I keep getting a notification that takes me back to here. So I don’t know if you got what I replied last night, above this.

See the 1st verse: Austin-American Statesman, April 9th, 1989. A real study. And boy, did I get a lot of flack from the “gentle sex.” Just reporting what I read — in my own words, of course. Isn’t that what good reporters do?

Ah, thank you! Did you play the audio? I need to redo it, but it’s not too bad.

Thanks, Tim

Ah, yes, and I find it strange for that very reason that I did not go into politics myself; it’s too bad my mirror does not agree. Damn lying glassy two-dimensional things that populate every bathroom I’ve ever been in. Who put those damn things there? Certainly not me! Thanks for the nice comments, John.

thank you graciously dearest Damian forgive my late response I find myself slipping of as of late ❤️