Tag Archives: McCandless

Excerpt from journal – Ending trip from Newark to Buffalo

Seeing a clouds shadow from the ground compared to a clouds shadow from the sky are two vastly different things.

I wonder if Kerouac would have flown more if he had the chance.

Probably not,

McCandless didn’t.

Everyone needs to love something,

or at least be loved.

 

I meant to write this before –

I have trouble writing when asked to write,

or even when I want to write.

It’s something that just comes,

like rain,

when the  day before I had planned for sun.

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Muse Poem: Revised 3

A muse of writing,

And creativity aspiring,

I think words sound better in my head.

 

Come forth, bright blonde sun,

Push the pedal down, further,

Toward the horizon.

 

The road spits past,

Roll the windows down,

Dirt sticking to our over heated, moon cooled skin.

Turn the radio off, please,

Let’s listen to the wind

 

(listen to it)

 

That’s the speed of Kerouac,

The love in McCandless’ spirit

The pull of the lake to Wordsworth,

The word-smith.

 

Reveling in thought,

Convulsing in question.

 

Late night lullabies,

keep me awake at night.

 

O’Holy: let me sleep.

O’Holy: let me sleep.

 

O’Holy.

 

O’Holy.

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