Palmer Street
I exhale miniature clouds
they float in October air
over wet cobblestones
past dried cornstalks
mingle with words
floating from the stage
poet's words
beat words
autumn words
under heavy sky
shining in the lamplight
soaring overhead
with the dark wedge
of migrating geese
falling to earth
with the last raindrops
of the afternoon storm
coming home in October
Janet Egan, October 3, 1997
"I was going home in
October. Everyone goes home in October."
- Jack Keroauc, On the Road
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Parkway Lounge
Oh yeah, the best minds
of my generation
sold out
burned out
rusted out
workin' for the man
every night and day
givin' it up for BMWs
and cappuccino machines
with Intel inside
but not tonight
not tonight under the blue veil
of spiraling tobacco smoke
churning in the light of a single desk lamp
tottering on a step ladder
too far from the microphone
Oh yeah, the best minds
of the next generation
pass among us spreading the word
the word still rules
the word still rocks
generations tonight
mixed in mixed up
crazy for the sound of words
talking to each other
tonight under the blue veil
of spiraling tobacco smoke
churning in the light of a single desk lamp
tottering on a step ladder
too far from the microphone
And the best minds
of that generation
beat
beatific
burnt too bright to last
rest hard
rest uneasy
rest forever
in perpetual light
from a single desk lamp
tottering on a step ladder
too far from the microphone
Janet Egan, October 3, 1997
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