Going Home


I’m on my way … I’m on my way home. I’ve spent so many years getting here. I’m writing this on the fly … no editing … no nothing. I drink too much I don’t understand why. I’m always half stoned. I’m always looking at what God has wrought. Even in my cups, I see the beauty … I see the wonder … I see myself in my Father. I see our Father in you … I see our Father in the plants and in the trees . . . I see our Father everywhere . . . and goddamn it . . . and GODDAMN ME! … I even see our Father in Dick Chaney.