Friday, June 08, 2007

jack and i go way back, son

On the Road
The hands of asphalt snake up
Kraken under concrete
Twirling round my ankles
they hold, firm.
Jack Keroauc set out with twenty
and his name.
I've got a little bit more--
maybe thirty and my hope
in something better
found in tar painted wilderness of America.
I want to wake up somewhere
with my back sore from the ground.
I want to fight for my right to live
on the battle ground of all America.
Maybe Jack was running away.
Maybe I'm running away.
But I think--
I think---
it's better to run to something you want
than to stand still in somewhere you hate.

Under My Dreams There Are Dreams
Foghorn coming through my window
midmorning birds calling to each other--
"come away I've found food come away
I've found you"--
I am asleep.
I put my clothes on asleep and I eat my breakfast
asleep and I look in the mirror asleep and I see
the dream in a little girl's eyes.
My alarm clock is broken
and I am do not know how to fix it.

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