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| (c) 2016 George Lenker |
Below is a poem by George Lenker of Northampton, MA, a friend of my great friend and Kerouacian brother, Richard Marsh. It fits the spirit of this blog nicely. George wrote this poem while walking down the above road in the Meadows. It was inspired by Lucinda Williams when he was interviewing her about being on the road (George writes for the local newspaper).
Thanks for letting me post your poem here on The Daily Beat, George.
ROAD
by George Lenker
We will die on road.
For road is all there is.
Endless asphalt, urgent dirt
Paths between the suncows.
Things have changed since we were young.
But road remains the same.
Inviting but unloving arms
That never quite embrace
Road is silent, yet it speaks
With rumbles of combustion and
Clanks of pancake platters
Long, lone whistles, barrel fires
The flutter of a midnight train
Road is just an endless dream
With no destination
Road is only you and me
The space that burns between us.
We will die on road.
For road is all there is.
Endless asphalt, urgent dirt
Paths between the suncows.
Things have changed since we were young.
But road remains the same.
Inviting but unloving arms
That never quite embrace
Road is silent, yet it speaks
With rumbles of combustion and
Clanks of pancake platters
Long, lone whistles, barrel fires
The flutter of a midnight train
Road is just an endless dream
With no destination
Road is only you and me
The space that burns between us.
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