Communication

This, the anniversary of Jack Kerouak’s
Birthday,
I never met him although I was in San Francisco
In 1959, all the dudes were gone,
What’s to communicate if you show up alone,
With all the dudes, that you want to
Speak to, fulsomely, expressively, gone,
That is a bust, circumstance, we will
Gather that phrase to our carefully
Wrought interior selves, as
Mitigating sense of our care,
Meanwhile, we will plummet
Into clouds, which surround us,
Then glint and fascinate the neophytes
On our way, to redefine our
Purpose,
Disposed by all, we hold, the truth,
No matter, what expression,
It is ours, longingly,
We are one…

Feathers/Fantasy

We once used feathers as writing
Implements. The quills
Satisfied the job they
had to do. Soft as a feather
Pillow in my mother’s home
The extremes of use, likely,
Bedazzle us.
We will never concur in
The expression of limitation
Concerning feathers.
Fetishistic fantasies
Be dammed.
Free write, is freely given
As our right, to explore,
The Universe through
Those toys we had with
prismatic glass, instead
Of telescopes