In the fall we were so ready
to die under christmas lights
left up for months next to
dried-out fountains and
mismatched metal furniture
Sweaty, we baptized each
other with iced coffee
incense and revolution
so careless and unguarded
as to never feel lonesome
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 5:07 PM UTC
driving sunset today
stuttering so i stopped for gas
filling up watch the pollen
over a woman and her minivan
pollen like a swarm of bees
under godly clouds
i wish I were already old and dead
thunderstorm now over
tiny America before we all lose it
i drove away from home at the
most summer-time
straight past balmy and slow pollen
and just here then just here on the corner
naked before the glory of
the driving sunset
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 4:58 PM UTC
Jack Kerouac made my momma hitch
down the west coast from Seattle to
Albaquerque in the 1970s but she
never made it to Mexico
Jack Kerouac made my dadda struggle
through an English major only to dig
ditches and deliver mail twenty years later
Jack Kerouac made me who I am today
a Dharma *** looking for any highway
outta here to Frisco to New York City to
subsist solely on coffee and searching for
Nirvana and being forever unsatisfied
with the name I was chained to at
birth people ought to choose their own
Jack Kerouac made who I am tomorrow
completely impossible to discern but he
filled me with blank paper and handed
me a pen and Thoreau the great
Transcendentalist made me write in
the dark but Jack Kerouac made me
transcend the ******** and write
for nothing for Buddha for smoky
haze for the turtle that walks with
the world on its back I may now
never stop looking for me in the
streets of Denver to ask me where
I would be without Jack Kerouac
Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 7:59 PM UTC