songs of the sumday
Ti Jean
Kerouac
Born in Lowell
century today ago
Funny, Jack how
“... he’d be hundred”
Candles cake a tragic glow
As if single person gathered
more alive than you right now
Huddled basement library
How’s that beat beneath the ground
Kissing covers
Licking pages
Swooning at your every line
Don’t they know the bars are open
Poetry improves with wine
Don’t they know the blues
Of Mexico in book
You barely touch
Choruses by mic cantated
Can’t communicate too much
Should have titled “Read In Transit”
Metaphors are parlor tricks
Publish only half in print
scrawl the rest on ruins wall
Next to where ol’ Montezuma
Scratched “Guess ya can’t win ‘em all!”
Act as if you left a treasure
That they can by plunder loot
All you did was search for meaning
“Searching” found
as meaning root
Kerouac
Died in Lowell
Nearly now fifty three years
Sing your song
for sweet Ti Jean
shout a toast or
Shed some tears
Then return to winding road
Where by mile
the truth appears
Jack Kerouac 100th birthday poem
written & read by Brian Waksmunski
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