Truth to tell, inspiration can be stored, in music and in words.

For two years now, I have been praying, primarily, to be shown

all the lies I believe, about God or any thing.

It’s a process.

There were catalysts, re-

minders of Radioman and his role in my war

and my peace

and my tests, tantrums and trials

and my runs in the desert and my prayer at the Verde

Edge of forever

Forever, when that begin, ya know…

There’s a sound track back of all the radioman

chronicles 1, 2, 3 and the door to the music

can be found in Scorsese’s Last Waltz with

The band that backed Dylan on the 1966 tour

and from that door are many paths to here.

Ferlinghetti doesn’t get here, just don’t get it.

Dylan won’t hinder you, don’t follow step by step

There was a wicked messenger. He is not me.

In my mortal moment, that’s been finished.

There is hope. Dreams fifty years old tell well,

as storms, ideas not thought
since losing one’s innocence

rise over deserts everywhere, this time of year,

—- Good news makes one feel good, right?

Ozone on the wind.

The meekest among the messages hold the truth,

which, when you know it, makes you free,

those messages say, Amen means we agree, make it so.

On earth as in heaven, hear in my peaceful valley.

Songs and stories should, ought, make a body

feel good, right? Or feel right well, well, feel good and right.

Yeah. May that be so.

What you say, you know, you gon’ count ever’ idle one.

That won’t take forever.

You know why? This is that FTA way. You read those books,

right? Did you follow the soundtrack in the background?