20th Chorus

   Jazz killed itself
   But dont let poetry kill itself

Dont be afraid
   of the cold night air

Dont listen to institutions
When you return manuscripts to
      brownstone

dont bow & scuffle
      for Edith Wharton pioneers
or ursula major nebraska prose
   just hang in your own backyard
      & laugh play pretty
         cake trombone
& if somebody gives you beads
   juju, jew, or otherwise,

sleep with em around your neck

Your dreams’ll maybe better

   There’s no rain
      there’s no me
   I’m telling ya man
      sure as shit

  — Jack Kerouac (1922 – 1969), American poet and novelist