#8: Kerouac lost

Looking for Kerouac

From the 29th floor the city flickers
a glimmering expanse of light and movement:
fluid ribbons of cars, taillights warm with red glow,
glass towers pass bright sweeps of colour
from pane to pane. Neon and dancing.

This is not Kerouac’s city — this glittering gem,
this light-washed spectacle of clean and reflection.
Constant and shining, opaque veneer of newness.
There is no sooty shadow, no soiled alleyways.

Where are his dirty corridors? The crimson
confessions pooled in shadows, bottles and breath
soured from marathons of words and raging.
The filth and fury and beautiful darkness?
Where are the broken bedsprings, the broken souls?

Gone. In this new and unbroken city bleached by light.
All darkness and dirtiness purified. Exorcized.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

The Editors' Weekly

Official blog of Canada's national editorial association


A compilation of current reporting and archived published work of journalist Nate Thayer

George Murray | Poet

Just another WordPress.com weblog


Poems, drama dialogs, fiction, non-fiction and more.


lifestyle photography // cologne


Photographs from my world.

Ray Ferrer - Emotion on Canvas

** OFFICIAL Site of Artist Ray Ferrer **

The Phoblography

A Post a Day May 2019 - May 2020 / All pictures posted are taken by Dave Bignell


Writing by Maggie Highfill Fleming


oil paintings by mark toner


My poems, and poets that have inspired me.

%d bloggers like this: