To Kerouac

Give me the downbeat
And snuggle me til empty.
Your cache is nothing more
Than empty shavings
Of Christmas presents at the hands
Of my six-year-old cousin.

Don’t frizz that way
Don’t you know we live
On the cliff face
And don’t you know
They’ve outlawed towels?

Show me the soul
So aloof and empathetic
It renders the calm
Even more abridged.
Take all the angels
And sing them to sleep;
We have places to be tonight.

Talk to me like you do
When I’m distance to you
When I’m caged in ice
That you can’t break off.
Tell me to sing
Because the world can’t be so cold
When we’re breathing this much.

Let’s bathe ourselves in youth
And harmless epiphany of an
Epitaphic form sans
The euphemisms.


The reader brings his or her own experience to the poem and creates meaning. Here is my experience:

One thought on “To Kerouac

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About Josie

I run slowly through forests, eat spoonfuls of Jif's Natural creamy peanut butter, and perpetually wear a fuzzy Patagonia sweater I found for $1.50 at a charity shop in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I deal in trees, breeze, and threes. I'm not interested in being normal. I'm not looking to pass GO. I'm not looking for anything other than breathable freedom.