I found the book from 1935
Read every word as if the last
Typewritten under the evening sun
Twenty-four hours away
In The Hut, he worked all night
Wet ink dries better in the morning
The notes sprawled over the mantelpiece
Twenty-four hours away
Summer day, he drove a Cadillac
A one-man village parade
Gathering ideas in an enormous trunk
Twenty-four hours away
His piano came from 1934
Floated all the way from the city
Playing it nightly with his heavy fists
Twenty-four hours away
I've got no hut to hold my notes
I've got no trunk to gather ideas
I'm going where this book was written
Twenty-four hours away