hello dearest poet I paint and write much like you because I have to it is a passion I burn with great write❤

Stop, children, what’s that sound? Everybody look what’s goin’ round.

There are so many reasons to write…I am not exactly sure why I do, I just do. I feel like a conduit
meant to put the words down that come to me…and I have no idea from where they come.
But my pen is my brush…I feel like a Pollack when I write…I just throw the words anywhere they want to go.
And yes, Vol, “we do aim higher than our wings”—
Maybe part of our drive is to write the one great poem that will make us famous, or at least known.
j.

You have always had a way of searching and finding clues that make sense of emotions and what they can do to somebody’s life.. its glorious happiness, its intense admission that being can be lonesome at times.

‘We live in shallow waters, miles from shore
satisfied but afraid of being, afraid of depth.

We always aim higher than our wings’

From start to finish a gentle confession but the finish suggests more – aiming higher is the adventure and eageress of seeing what others tragically miss. Your pen is mightier than most, tis the gold that makes magic, sir.

Am more than ready to review and then offer my thoughts, sir.
‘It is all I can do to not paint
everything red as fire, or yellow as
a bobcat’s eye because the world
might end in Ragnarök after all,
we the people buried under sparkles
of glacial aquamarine, bleak as dreams.’

From start to final word, the above is a brilliant canvas, Vol