\nKEROUAC
\nKerouac yea Kerouac
\nHis words the words so many words just
\nAll brothers of the same horn sisters the saxophone
\nNotes music words a melody a quote a figure eight a figure
\nIf you listen close to the drummer
\nIt’s like a mirror and your invisible
\nLike you’re in a back seat
\nNo handles on the doors just a beautiful driver up front
\nShe knows where she’s going
\nKerouac the observation machine
\nCaressing the most passing of scenes with photographic love
\nPassionate photographic love
\nVenerable as anyone knew
\nHis memories pull shades up and down
\nDoors are not done telegrams arrive
\nEvery morning something extra something
\nRemembering everything like a snatch of melody
\nA drumbeat remembering mythologizing
\nSo fast all the time moving
\nThe words the words are drumsticks pounding out drum beats
\nLike a monk like a monk melody
\nWith mistakes yea mistakes and sudden inspirations
\nEdges corners explosions convections
\nAll fast through a slow motion landscape
\nYea fast through a slow motion landscape<\/p>\n
\u00a9 Morphine<\/p>\n