Confessions of a scattered artist

�All my scattered notes

Only the angels could gather

I thank God that He is my editor

If He wants to publish them (to make Himself famous, not me),

I at least

Left Him a challenge. And it is no small feat

To leave God a challenge!

Notes on receipts in old cars

Left all over the world

Notes on bathroom walls

Notes under bridges, beneath which I once lived.

Notes spray painted on cars-long since given away.

I know my angels film my life—which has always kept me honest

And “living in front of God” as the old wise people said.

Nothing is ever unseen.

But may God bless my editors as

They gather all my scattered notes—

Mostly written, by now in people’s hearts-

Or on that type of parchment,

I’m sure!

Life is scattered notes written on Wind,

As someone wiser than me must’ve written somewhere by now.

Gathering them is a job for angels. �But, my heart is one

While my notes on life are many.