IF LIFE IS, as it's said, a journey, some of us take the express train to the end of the line and others take the local. Then there's poet Stewart S. Warren, who gets off at each stop and explores every new place.
Born in Tulsa in 1950, Warren was 13 the first time he ran away. Like any adventurous American boy, he ran away with the circus, becoming a makeshift carny. This was anathema to his affluent parents.
"My family members didn't work with their hands," he says.