POEM
Jazz killed itself
But don't let poetry kill itself
Don't be afraid
of the cold night air
Don't listen to institutions
when you return manuscripts to
brownstone
don't bow and scuffle
for Edith Wharton pioneers
or ursula major nebraska prose
just hang in your own backyard
& laugh play pretty
cake trombone
& and if somebody gives you beads
juju, jew, or otherwise
sleep with em around your neck
Your dreams maybe better
There's no rain
there's no me,
I'm tellin ya man
sure as shit
-Jack Kerouac (1959)
"Been trying to get this feeling since Monday" -Digable Planets
Have a great week
Tune in and don't drop out,
Dj Lipton