These modest lines which I wouldn't dare call poetry for lacking
the power of art may at least bring a smile or a new thought into
bold momentary relief for being something new, unexpected, though
not very deep or certainly profound. My voice may be odd, too and
may not harmonize immediately or comfortably with your own inner
voice or what you expect or hope for in lines like these. And you
may be right! But if there's any worth in these words and if they
touch a few hearts and minds and spirits perhaps a certain
commonality may have briefly come to life here among us and the
foolishness and vanity of wasted time, wasted days pursuing art may
not becomemy epitaph.
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