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.