I've Had It With These Cheap Sons

Against The Ruin Of The World, There Is Only One Defense: The Creative Act.

A White Crowned Night Sparrow Sings As The Moon Sets. Thunder Growls Far Off. Our Campfire Is A Single Light. Amongst A Hundred Peaks And Waterfalls. The Manifold Voices Of Falling Water Take All Night. Wrapped In Your Down Bag Starlight On You Cheeks And Eyelids Your Breath Comes And Goes In A Tiny Cloud In The Frosty Night. Ten Thousand Birds Sing In The Sunrise. Ten Thousand Years Revolve Without Change. All This Will Never Be Again.

With My Own Group I Like To Keep It Loose. They Have To Counter Rather Than Go With Me. When They Stop I Like To Be Moving.

I've Been Around Jazz And Jazz Musicians Most Of My Life.

Did You Know I Staged The First Performance In America Of At The Hawk's Well?