I Thought of Jack Kerouac

"Something that you feel will find its own form."
-Jack Kerouac.

I thought of
Jack Kerouac
Today as I entered
The public library
Eyes down
Rolling Rolling
Along the tiled floors
Pen warm
Tucked between
My ear and skull

I thought of how
He must have written
In manic-depressive
Mood swings
Because of the sheer
Beauty of his prose
The fluidity
And movement of
His thoughts
The asymmetry
And seeming
Randomness
Of it all

As I reached for
My pen
And sat down
To write
I remembered that
He always looked so
Sad and serious
Or even a little annoyed
With it all
With the fame
And wealth
The way he squinted
His eyes
And moved
His hands to
His brow
Almost mechanically

But then I thought
Of love
The way he
Touched my heart
And spirit
With his childlike
Spontaneity
With his ever-present
Wind song
Moon kiss
Cloud laugh
Sky Sky

I thought of
The way he freed
His thoughts along
The open page
And helped me
Touch the stars
Teaching me
To denounce intent
And form and range
He must have been a saint
The way he preached
On the beauty of
First thoughts

I thought of
Jack Kerouac
Today as I entered
The public library
Eyes down
Rolling Rolling
Along the tiled floors
Pen warm
Tucked between
My ear and skull