Poems are the world asleep
where death cannot reside
March 10, 2002:
On the eve Jack Kerouac’s Birthday (March 11), Philomene reads aloud to John from Kerouac’s Scriptures of Golden Eternity. This is their last conversation at THE ELLISON in Venice, California. John Thomas passed away on Good Friday, March 29 at 2:56 pm.
We became gods together, John
Not saints, not buddhas, but gods
And they can be cantankerous
The old Greek gods,
the Muse: cantankerous
I never wanted to be either one
a buddha or a saint
We became poets
And that’s better than all of them
And must you be a buddha to experience
Jack Kerouac’s Golden Eternity, or a saint?
I never was
And Golden Eternity, if you were a buddha,
would be nothing
It would not be conscious awareness of self as being
You’re saying that doesn’t die after your body dies?
I once wrote a little poem:
I know that my body will die
I know that my mind will die
I know that my soul will die
But not me.
Nor the poems - they won’t die
It’s taken for granted the poems won’t die
Don’t even have to think about that
They’d be harder to get rid of than crab grass
And we’re not dying
We’re all there is
and we’re going to live forever
Can I bring Golden Eternity with me?
Which, if it’s Jack Kerouac’s Golden Eternity,
is the color of beer or muscatel
Yes, just as long as it doesn’t fill the house
Dear, it IS the house
Then you don’t have to bring it with you
it’s already there So what’s your problem?
No problem - The end
Whatever, wherever it is
it’s Golden Eternity
Posted: Sat - September 1, 2007 at 05:49 PM