tearing 3 am out of my morning mourning rising dawn forsake dreams to wake the dead cursing night players screaming mythos from my head and I wondered if that clock cared 3 clangs rang… and bang a pillow full of grit roman numerals underhand three i's - capitalized her story in Greek
just wanted to sleep you know as well as I ...sleep is for the dead The sand man commeth but not for my sad head leaves me lost clock staring mad and that damned cat too chicken to fight
All I's got ta say is... you rock! You've turned me on to Kerouac and made a wonderful dance partner! You started the crazeetrain with the first two lines and working with you was near effortless!
Any time you want to leak your muse on me...feel free!
The flow is awesome! The piece feels like one poet, you two blend really well; a tribute to both of your talents. I think you two could adapt to any one’s work, and bring it to another level. I have to admit, I hadn’t heard of Kerouac, but I looked him up and will have to read some of his work…The bits of rhyme and breaks make this piece feel sleek as the night…Tom cat prowling…
Wow, this is exquisite, the way you start with the cat waking the persona at 3am and only right at the end does the thought of the loved one enter. That's really resonant, of how those hours are the loneliest. The word play is exquisite. I loved that opening with morning, mourning and the verb tearing really shows the almost tangible action of the cat.Love the personification of the clock, foreshadowing for the woman, but still allowing it to be unexpected. A masterful, very well-structured poem.
I am a man , I breathe nature , I listen to the stars , I speak dream , music is my life blood , my words pour from my heart . I observe , my hands express .
Feel my words , look as deeply into yo.. more..