My couch is a bulwark in the world,
Big Sur ship for refugees & lost boy souls
Jack Kerouac speaks words from my TV but I can't sleep.
His sentences wander long paths
Language better written by waves on sand.
Gulls and seahorses are my companions
But they use heiroglyphs,
Bedrock rooted in fabrics of time
Defy introspection,
I can't understand.
Deeply tired of this racket,
I think of sky blue halls
Parthenon pillars
Nirvana bliss for the careless few.
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