for better or worse, when i write my thoughts down, my mind is in the pursuit of logic &clarity. words, poems, lyrics.. “theyre the world’s most fearsome fighting team, they’re heroes on a half shell &they’re green.” but more saliently, my creative defect has caused me to live with a dirty little secret — i dont really get pop poetry. when bob dylan sang, quite assertively, that “the answer was blowin’ in the wind,” i knew it was not. the only thing blowin’ in the wind was air, dirt, leaves, bacteria, some miscellaneous crap light enough to become temporarily airborne. not that i could share this with anyone in between casual talks. it is not for me to question the voice of my generation. but between ourselves now, i always thought it would have been a better song if he simply told us what the ‘answer’ was. (“how many roads must a man walk down, before they could call him a man?”) nine? six if he jogs? i hate guessing. the reason i bring this up is that i yearn to break free from the confines of logic. i aspire to write thought-provoking, idiosyncratic sojourns into the realm of the unfettered spirit. i dream that maybe just once, the muses will saturate my soul with graceful poetry that speaks to the heart. that my “blowin’ in the wind” will not be the second-rate punch line to a dirty joke that i tried to sneak past the apprehensions.