This is so cool. That Dewey Kincaid lyric—“Don’t squeeze me in, to your photograph…”—keeps looping in my head. One line epitaph, skipping phonograph, one trick pony. What a vibe.
And then this one—good god, the man’s a poet:
We can’t seem to know that life is a bow / And we are all arrows born to fly.
We push so hard just to move backwards / Until we turn around and sail through the sky.
Chills.
Your Substack is such an education for me. Still laughing about the look on your face when I said I liked Kelly Clarkson (LMAO). Total beginner here, just savoring each post and learning as I go. Thanks for letting me tag along.
This is so cool. That Dewey Kincaid lyric—“Don’t squeeze me in, to your photograph…”—keeps looping in my head. One line epitaph, skipping phonograph, one trick pony. What a vibe.
And then this one—good god, the man’s a poet:
We can’t seem to know that life is a bow / And we are all arrows born to fly.
We push so hard just to move backwards / Until we turn around and sail through the sky.
Chills.
Your Substack is such an education for me. Still laughing about the look on your face when I said I liked Kelly Clarkson (LMAO). Total beginner here, just savoring each post and learning as I go. Thanks for letting me tag along.
Hey, to each their own! But we're certainly on the same page as to Dewey's lyrical prowess.