Goddesses of a Good Nap

[saw]

pages of my novel rustle
like a flip-book on the ground,
The Subterraneans speak a language
without punctuation

I'm daydreaming to the sound
of yellowed paperback pages, flapping
like baseball cards clothes-pinned
to the spokes of a bicycle

dropped from a wrinkled tired hand
that loses its grip as the mind slips off

to the greens and blues of REM, the violets,
reds and yellows of prismatic flight
the breeze is steady like a lighthouse beacon,
the mind wanders a house with endless rooms

a wonderland for nappers that didn't plan to roam....
Jack Kerouac is there with his black lover Mardou
she is flowing in a see-through cotton dress
her presence highlighted my her sleek ebony thighs

providing the back-lighting for an oil painting
hanging in the gallery of a twilight museum,
she purses her lips like Parthenope when she sang
like a woman half-fish to the Argonauts

like a Shakespearean soliloquy you dream perchance
to resurrect the man that can't stay awake anymore
when he tries to read his books, you conjure up
the sirens for this old-timer that still has dreams

that are young....
dreams that don't apologize for the age that has come
to him when he wasn't paying attention....he says to himself,
in a low recognizable voice,..."one day I was stud

and the next day they just put me out in the back pasture"

[theirishsea]

I enjoyed this masterful piece. So much in it. I haven't read a Jack Kerouac novel but I should read one----have On The Road someplace in my bookshelves---at least I hope I do.

But so much to connect with in this poem like this:

I'm daydreaming to the sound
of yellowed paperback pages, flapping
like baseball cards clothes-pinned
to the spokes of a bicycle


I remember that in the day----and this I don't know but I'll have to check out Mardou

Jack Kerouac is there with his black lover Mardou
she is flowing in a see-through cotton dress
her presence highlighted my her sleek ebony thighs

providing the back-lighting for an oil painting
hanging in the gallery of a twilight museum,

vivid writing---and of course the ending----can identify with that

[creativesoul]

the gestures
the sight

so very true on this night
aging gracefully

[judih]

the title alone is supremely exact
great poem (great is not much of a word, but this work is)

[leafsailors ghost]

Yes................................................................
I would love to sit and have a conversation with you
now this is poetry
fantastic stuff
reaces right past bullshit deep into real
the old man that I am can comp;etly relate
This poem resinats from head to foot
reminded me why I turn on this puter
I wish you lived down the street
I will copy this for my keeping
just so
spot on
cool

[saw]

irish, jana, judih, leaf....thank y'all for taking the time to comment...thoroughly appreciated your comments..... ....yeah, it would be cool to have a party of the poets here, but that would involve airplanes and such.....who knows what's possible if the will is there...happy writing comrades