Just a thought. Usually while I’m hiking alone, the voice that lives inside my head is a poetic voice. I have no particular training. Nothing makes me an expert. I’m just saying that this is how I hear my own voice. So, instead of ignoring it, over the next while, I’m going to make a record of my words. I still haven’t published all of my Ginsberg response poems, but maybe I’ll get back to that as well. It’s a perfect evening to put on a pot of clam chowder. There is a fierce wind outside and I’m feeling blessed to be indoors in the quiet, with my dog, Max, under the computer desk, chin perched on my feet. Now, to begin.