Some time after his first jail sentence for DWI or public inebriation and disorderliness, Daddy announced that he was writing a novel called “East of Nowhere.” He started scribbling, first a poem of the same name, then other random poetry, scrawled at his girlfriend’s house when she could still stand him or in a rooming house in El Paso or a friend’s house in Denver. He started having stacks of paper, the makings of a manuscript at some point, but it all got stolen in a hobo bag, which was all Daddy had toward the end of his life.

​Here are a few gems worth sharing.