WALLS

Four beige walls
Streaked with yellow tar
Of too many smokes
Kerouac waiting with Brautigan on shelf
Once the mongrel beat
Long forgotten

And the jazz plays cymbals taps flare
Chaka boom chaka boom chaka boom
While 88's like crystal wail
To the beat baby babe
 To the beat

On the road to desolation
The vision spoke
Looking through doorways at mountains

The jack,man, the jack 
Had this feel,ya'know
This running flow like jazz

Keeps coming alive
Chaka boom
Can't you feel it
Miles swings down dig

Walls that stain the darkness
THE TOKYO-MONTANA EXPRESS
We're all up on desolation
Lookin' down

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Hilda Greenhough

Date: 3/25/2025 9:51:00 PM

I find this poem interesting. Your descriptive words bring the sounds and energy of a train into sharp focus. Enjoyed immensely.

William HAYNES
Date: 3/25/2025 10:22:00 PM

thank you Thank you Hilda. I wasn't sure on how well beat styled poetry would play here. It is my fave type of writing