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The Moon
The moon her magic be, big sad face
Of infinity an illuminated clay ball
Manifesting many gentlemanly remarks
She kicks a star, clouds foregather
In Scimitar shape, to round her
Cradle out, upsidedown any old time
You can also let the moon fool you
With imaginary orange-balls
Of blazing imiginary light in fright
As eyeballs, hurt & foregathered,
Wink to the wince of the seeing
Of a little sprightly otay
Which projects spikes of light
Out the round smooth blue balloon
Ball full of mountains and moons
Deep as the ocean, high as the moon,
Low as the lowliest river lagoon
Fish in the Tar and pull in the Spar
Billy de Bud and Hanshan Emperor
And all wall moongazers since
Daniel Machree, Yeats see
Gaze at the moon ocean marking
the face
In some cases
The moon is you
In any case
The moon
Anyway the time has come to explain
the Golden Eternity
and how the iridescent paraphernalia of radiating candles
ceases
when mentation ceases
because I know what it's like to die,
to cease mentating, one day I died,
I fainted actually, I was stooping smelling
strapping flowers in the cosmos yard
of my mother's cozy flower house
in Auffinsham Shire, in Queens,
and stood up fast taking deep breath,
blood rushed from head, next thing I knew
woke up flat on my back in the grassy sun
and had been out fine minutes.
And I has seen the Golden Eternity.
The Lamb was alone with the Lamb.
The Babe was alone with the Baby Lamb.
The Shroud was alone with the Golden Shroud.
I was alone with God, who
is God, who was Me,
who was All.
he stood high on a hill
overlooking Mexico City
radiating messages
out of a white Tiot
Ir a la biografía de Jack Kerouac
© Aloha Criticón. Todos los derechos reservados.
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