JACK KEROUAC'S HOUR

Your language draws us
into your personality
to make us travel with you
recollecting some of your stories
shining in a recall of memory
embraced in a diary reflected
in D'harma Bum faces
disclosed vocally and directed
from your country's unlocked
pieces of novel intimacy
or in momentary poetic creation
on the roads, beach and docks
watching you on the city steps
off Kerouac's lost highway
crossing by City Lights alley
reaching for your writing chair
in hollow coffee houses
returning from the 1950's cafes
empowering words of scat
melodies miraculously sing out
at the the Red Drum memories
where his sacks of grief fills up
huge beer cups joined to share
at Kerouac's summoned hour
as sublime sax riffs over
his chapter of notes in unbelief
offering jazz's changing scene
as a Beat escapes to a new reality
fully extends his unfolding relief
in an encounter of pop art
from Edward Ruscha
at the L.A.'s  Hammer museum
remains a guardian angel for him
at the Sixties surreal season
of a likely imparting correspondence
offering an uneasy clearing line
between two newly discovered talents
recalling when Jack's is clearing Frisco
his motorcycle handle falls off
on the road between local cars
nearing a departure of taxing life
and nature of his waxing ego
not ready for the stars in heaven
words transfer to the another body
by Jack's transmigratory soul
from the century's cultural dust
still bites him as a visionary must
to span forty seven candles
to be created whole.