Poem For Jack Kerouac, Angel, Drunk, Poet, Confused & Broken Genius of the Sudden Illumination

Man, dig the perfect beauty 
of this nothingness,
this void, this discrete zero,  
that is here       that is now

Prayer on Cold Mountain

O perfect emptiness deliver us unto rarities

 

Cold Mountain Poet Explains What's What To A Visitor And Then Hits Him With His Walking Stick On The Head

Here's my hut.
And look, those
are the mountains.
They're pretty cold now.

Some days it's beautiful
here. Other days, 
not really, just
rock and sky.
Not much else.

When it's beautiful,
when it's nothing --
either way,
it's' a funny name.

Cold Mountain.

No big deal.