You reach an age when friends, your generation Dying off like flies. And you, full of ideas Alive and kicking, Finger licking fresh in mind Trying to find One out there, To read your wares. Your teeming thoughts, Aware and deep with meaning Warranting a reader, Radar to its most intense. Looking, writing, hoping for an audience, Shakespeare felt the selfsame yearning - Handel, Beethoven, each earning by conducting, Not to mention poor Van Gogh Who went the way of painters who sell nothing go.
To write, paint, sculpt, dance, sing, compose: Any noise that oozes art. For whom? That is the theme, the problem And the question.
To Write For Whom12 27.2016 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Arlene Corwin