Saturday, May 7, 2016

At Kerouac’s Grave

surrounded by death
and crumbling Lowell
but we’re ready
to embrace it all
to love America
like the mad poets
of ti Jean’s dreams

we shake our white-knuckle fists
at the frowning gawkers
at the indifferent universe
at the cold stars
from our smoldering Earth

we laugh again
refueled in our crazed minds
ready to live harder
and burn in ethereal magic light
across the face of the world

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