Sunday Picture Challenge

Tired of the Road

I rode the American experience
from sunset to sunrise
across the Lincoln Highway.
Spent forty six years
in the footsteps of Coronado,
Lewis, Caulfield and Moriarty;
chasing ghosts both real
and imagined. I’ve been
down in Denver, slept under
mountain stars with only
my doubts as company
and loved many a girl
long before I learned
to love myself.

I watched the naked cowboy
playing the guitar in Times Square
and it may as well have
been Darth Vader fiddling
while Alderon burned.
His neon tan blazed against
a backdrop of taxi cabs,
broken hearts, barkers
and the scream of 10 million souls
on the verge of falling silent forever.

As I stand now in the night air
of the city and watch my life go by
on the ticker at one Times Square,
I long for the simplicity of home
and hope that I can find my way.

SMG

Inspiration

Inspiration

I spend Sunday afternoons
in Greenwich Village
searching for Holden
and old Sal Paradise.
I want to connect
with the dissonance ,
embrace madness
and take On the Road.

I stutter step 42nd Street,
weave and eaves drop
on stolen conversations
and snap shot scenes.
Sublime brief glimpses,
of a television set to scan.
Seen through dim glass
a city viewed darkly

I’ve fucked my share
of whores and goddesses
but I still can’t write
a decent love poem.
Language fails compared
to the splendor and stench
of two becoming one,
then two, or maybe none.

I walk through Central Park
and wonder about the ducks,
I often take the time to ask
the junkies “where’s Dean?”
and every once in a while
they give me a knowing look
and say “he’s on the journey,
living it, where are you man?”