Of Bob Dylan

There are those who do not imitate, who cannot imitate.
But then there are those who emulate at times,to expand further the light of an original glow.
Knowing that to imitate the living is mockery and to imitate the dead is robbery.
There are those who are beings complete unto themselves - whole, undaunted, -a source.
As leaves of grass, stars, as mountains, alike, alike, alike, yet unalike.
Each is complete and contained.
And as each unalike star shines each ray of light is forever gone to leave way for a new ray and a new ray, as from a fountain.
Complete unto itself, full, flowing. So are some souls like stars and their words, works and songs like strong, quick flashes of light from a brillant, erupting cone.
So where are you mountains to match some men?


This man can rhyme the tick of time, the edge of pain, the what of sane and comprehend
the good in the men, the bad in the men. can feel the hate of fight, the love of right and the creep of blight at the speed of light.
the pain of dawn, the gone of gone.
the end of friend, the end of end.
I'm proud to say that I know it, he is a hell of a poet.
And lots of other things.
And lots of other things.








j.cash