trying to write
phone keeps ringing
noisy kids downstairs
give me that
old time religion
sing that
old fashioned love song
rock me in the bosom
of Abraham
fly me to the moon
over the rainbow
wish me a wish
on the night's
first star
take me back to childhood
I want to sit
on my mother's lap
hear my dad laughing
don't want to grow up;
don't want to grow old.
same old/new story
still being told
inside out
upside down
smiles are
inverted frowns..
so there you go
here you are....
happiness is
phone keeps ringing
noisy kids downstairs
give me that
old time religion
sing that
old fashioned love song
rock me in the bosom
of Abraham
fly me to the moon
over the rainbow
wish me a wish
on the night's
first star
take me back to childhood
I want to sit
on my mother's lap
hear my dad laughing
don't want to grow up;
don't want to grow old.
same old/new story
still being told
inside out
upside down
smiles are
inverted frowns..
so there you go
here you are....
happiness is
nessi The secret of it all is to write in the gush, the throb, the flood, of the moment -- to get things down without deliberation -- without worrying about their style -- without waiting for a fit time or place. I always worked that way. I took the first scrap of paper, the first doorstep, the first desk, and wrote -- wrote, wrote . . . By writing in the instant the very heartbeat of life is caught. "Walt Whitman's Camden Conversations"


Ness