Jeff Tweedy

ran into a guy in high school
that could play and sing and write
like he was fifty years older than he was
annoyed him for years
until the guy couldn't work with him anymore
(drinking too much
not drinking enough
being himself
gaining confidence)
took the rest of the band and hired a musician
that could turn his little songs
and Woody Guthrie's (the best words he ever wrote)
into more than they were or could have been
got pissed off at him
fired him
hired someone else in the same vein
and became a geniuses

Jack Kerouac

I was just passing through and stopped in a graveyard to smoke a joint stretch my legs look around and take a piss
the night before I was lost on the South Dakota border and ended up in a bar in Iowa being ignored by pretty women
my grandmother was dying the whole family was on their way to a town outside Madison I hate to fly so I was driving
the backroads 'cause you can't see anything on the highway
the day before I stood on a hill overlooking the Missouri river and watched an old man fly fish for about fifteen minutes he didn't catch anything and I was looking for something that's hard to define
it might have been the half-finished statue of Crazy Horse in the Black Hills that I didn't have time to check out
if I ever get back that way it might be finished but it won't be the same
I'm not looking much anymore I guess I found it and lost some stuff too along the way
but way back then while I switched from the joint to a cigarette
I looked at a headstone that read
Amy York April 9 1877 November 23 1899 a devoted wife and mother
I thought about her kids and those long winters that never end up here
I bet they were looking a long time for something that was hard to define if they ever did