Letter 062224
Dear Ethan Hawke
Art does not make me a better artist, a better person. But it does give me permission to be an okay person, okay artist. I felt alone. I am the only one thinking these thoughts. Then, no. The pressure is off. Someone writes more deeply about being online and finally you are given, by time, a new sleep. You can disappear. Your art can disappear. It’s not your responsibility to be who you are. I was midway through a poem called cross machine and I’ll probably finish it. On youtube some guy in a backwards hat sings that this is his country. I don’t know where he is. Sorry, Ethan. Sorry, Ethan.
kingsoftrain 
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