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.

2 thoughts on “Going Home

  1. You do? Dick the dick Cheney?! That takes some vision! Now this little beauty…..only joking, Mr. Joyce. It’s a lovely story because it is full of love.


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