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Even when I was a little boy
I was always alone
with my guardian angel
Playing Tarzan
An icicle fell on me
& cut my arm
I had a rope around my neck
I was hanged in Innifree
Had my hand cut off in Perfidee
Never had my fill
of Thee
ST MICHAEL IN THE CORNER,
NINE FEET TALL
From Book of Blues. Copyright © 1995 by Jack Kerouac. Reprinted by permission of SLL/Sterling Lord Literistic, Inc.
The Essence of Existence
is Buddhahood—
As a Buddha
you know
that all the sounds
that wave from a tree
and the sights
from a sea of fairies
in Isles of Blest
and all the tastes
in Nectar Soup
and all the odors
in rose arbour
—ah rose, July rose—
bee-dead rose—
and all the feelings
in the titwillow's
chuckling throat
and all the thoughts
in the raggedy mop
of the brain—
one dinner
Le corp de la verité
pourre dans la terre
The body of truth
rots in the earth
nourriture dans la terre
Sanchez fourwinds bigtown,
dont wail that at me
Fraserville Quebec
comes back to me
In the night sun sleep
warm, store it in tanks
Blues of Old Virginia tree
moonbottles over kiss time
listener appeal
Kissland
Kissimee Florida
These are Orlanda Blues
There's a middlewestern prurience about Greeks.— Your little earth-nut, O potato war, riots mama dears around papap's paternal root S i l k y b o o
( o o ! ) Found the Sound