LATE NIGHT, EARLY MOURN-ING SAT-HER-DAY I wrote this book of prose n poems after I moved to Cape Cod to take a job n live by the ocean after leaving the Maine-lands with 7 years of bar hoping, basket passing coffee houses, walking the cobblestone parking lot of Portland, Maine where I saw poetry in motion three hundred and sixty five days per year and I walked naked and flowing in the moment all over that beautiful city. Of course it takes true happiness to write happy and snappy and low down blues to play this game. "e;DANIEL JAMES WEBB"e; is a book of poems n prose n journal-eskkk freight train rambles. It stars the true American boy as our narrator and through his experiences and visions and illuminations, we walk across American culture where it belongs, in the mind of a sharp, cynical, angry, mad, existing poet of the mountains. This blue book blows bugles n balcony riddles, crying in the midnight moonlight trying for so many years to please the paper, the people, the mind, the love struck poet in Cape Cod puddles, babe, drunk without worry or wicked sins deep down in six feet of ground, boy, cause I've got a woman I can love. Lord, Lord, tell the whole world what I can do! I've been so wild baby! It seems the talks all over town-Daniel James WebbCape Cod, Ma

LATE NIGHT, EARLY MOURN-ING SAT-HER-DAYI wrote this book of prose n poems after I moved to Cape Cod to take a job n live by the ocean after leaving the Maine-lands with 7 years of bar hoping, basket passing coffee houses, walking the cobblestone parking lot of Portland, Maine where I saw poetry in motion three hundred and sixty five days per year and I walked naked and flowing in the moment all over that beautiful city.Of course it takes true happiness to write happy and snappy and low down blues to play this game. "DANIEL JAMES WEBB" is a book of poems n prose n journal-eskkk freight train rambles. It stars the true American boy as our narrator and through his experiences and visions and illuminations, we walk across American culture where it belongs, in the mind of a sharp, cynical, angry, mad, existing poet of the mountains. This blue book blows bugles n balcony riddles, crying in the midnight moonlight trying for so many years to please the paper, the people, the mind, the love struck poet in Cape Cod puddles, babe, drunk without worry or wicked sins deep down in six feet of ground, boy, cause I've got a woman I can love. Lord, Lord, tell the whole world what I can do!I've been so wild baby! It seems the talks all over townDaniel James WebbCape Cod, Ma