The only thing I knew about being a poet, is that I wasn’t and I know it…
…
or so I thought…

Like looking at a map and being convinced of where I am and where the path is and the wrongness of the cartographer and the rightness of my sense of direction here on the ground…

…

maybe I am lost…

… maybe I was lost…

… maybe I’ve been wronger about a lot of things and fighting within the wronger that was actually righter… or writer…

It’s strange the ones you meet when you’re wandering, and wondering.

I met Joel, he rights, he writes,

he wrote this, and helped me see I’m poet (tho I didn’t know it)…

https://joelmckerrow.bandcamp.com/album/hollowed-out-lungs-live