Chasing Kerouac's shadow
By: Jack Micheline
The alabaster city gleams in the sunlight I am on a bus going to Santa Rosa Away from the stinking hotel They tell me I am famous, like the Jerome cookies Streets, poems, nuthouses, jails, paintings, con men and time My twenty years of poems and paintings stored away in houses and cellars relentless with anger and love I ponder at life and the world around me The bus speeds on the highway going sixty I am fifty-two, live alone, considered some mad freak genius In reality I am a fucked up poet who will never come to terms with the world No matter how beautiful the flowers grow No matter how children smile No matter how blue is the bluest sky The harsh realities of life, that life is mostly a put up job The genius rain avoids us The lone solitary soul that does her beautiful dance for all to see I seek the genuine leaf blowing in the wind The real person tapping a song whose melody flows through rivers and time The image that dances with stars The sun that melts anger and harassment Years spent begging and hustling Carrying paintings on buses Carrying mattresses through streets Evictions, lost loves, hangovers, rheumatism, hemorrhoids For a muse that rarely pays off I must be mad, bewitched like a lost gambler Down to my last bet with no carfare or candy I am not subtle or charming I cannot lie for money or tell stories I'm the gray fox some schmuck The old pro chasing the mad dream The crazy Jew himself Who don't know when to quit Who can't say die unless I die It is all a mad dream The race track full of maniacs Lost gamblers living on hope and dreams Tomorrow is never better The same buses full of beaten and tired faces I only know when the cock rises and the crow howls To eat, to drink, to take a leak And chicken is good to eat when one is hungry Money buys everybody, that is why the world is fucked up That is why politicians have seventeen faces and speechwriters And waitresses wear lipstick Why mediocrity rules Why poets hang out in groups for protection And musicians disappear faster than flies And artists suck the rich quicker than summer watermelon and bourgeois children Why the communists and capitalists Use the same deck of tricks To hide the miraculous The magic of life The wonder of children and salamanders and birds Wonder is the thunder Wonder is the Spring rain itself Wonder is the young girl in love Wonder is love The concerto The hummingbird The clouds moving across the night sky It is raining again Light against darkness Shadows chasing the sun The sun chasing the shadows Man against the night Man and woman together with the night The day awakens Let's sing a song For those who chase the night For those that dance with light One speck of light No matter who is light Light the unknown The unknown, it is all we have Anything is possible Like new born colors flashing across the Universe The road The vagabond The dreamers The dancers The unsung Fuck the Gung HO! Byron Hunt is doing a collage at the Goodman Building Ed Balchowsky is doing another painting Raising his one arm to the sky Rosalie Sorrells is singing a song in Kansas Sam Shepard is smiling Rare birds are coming out with new coats of color Rainy Cass is alive and well in New Orleans Valentine Chuzioff is sketching some blonde in Jackson Square Bodenheim hustling another poem for wine Franz Kline singing a sad song at the Cedar Kerouac talking to the moon again James T. Farrell chasing a waitress at Yankee Stadium Charlie Mingus bopping, chucking, eating a steak Playing bass with angels Wilbur Ware Gil Gaulkins Bill Bosio Al Delauro Bob Bolles Charlie Stark Sue McGraw Linda Charlotte Banana Boat Steamboat Jones Jeremiah Jerusalem The light is coming out I'll give the sun away It belongs to everybody It's not mine to give away Those with the sun Those seeking the sun Those on the run in the Chicago night Those in jail Those in the towers Those chasing a ghost in the wilderness Those on the road Those with dreams Those who will never give up Those who are learning to dance Those perplexed agonized whacked wretched tattooed confused We are all the sun You are the sun This world is one Those with wonder, you are the sun Shake the sun We are one The moon and the sun are brothers!
Jack Micheline March 15, 1982 Written on a bus from San Francisco to Santa Rosa
You can find this poem in Micheline’s book — Sixty-Seven Poems For Downtrodden Saints. You can also complement this poem with “An Ode to the Street Poet - Jack Micheline” — a brief bio in the form of a poem I recently wrote about the great street poet.
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So powerful. What a ride he takes us on.
"Money buys everybody, that is why the world is fucked up
That is why politicians have seventeen faces and speechwriters
And waitresses wear lipstick
Why mediocrity rules
Why poets hang out in groups for protection"
And then the light:
"The wonder of children and salamanders and birds
Wonder is the thunder......
Wonder is the Spring rain itself..."
He was a genius.
This same poem was also published under the title Walking In Kerouac's Shadow in his Zeitgeist book, Cockymoon. Jack's poems for Kerouac, so many of them, always move in beautiful melodies. We love his work and miss his voice! Thanks Poetic Outlaws for the reminder.
https://www.zeitgeist-press.com/index.php/product-category/authors/jack-micheline/