Kerouac Lives - 54 Poem by Richard Wlodarski
Kerouac Lives - 54
I will write until I'm dead
And then...beyond the damn grave!
Brilliant, Richard. Your words suggest another way of identifying the 'hooves of suffocating mediocrity.' I think I have Kerouac's quote right. Brilliant verse, Richard. Let nothing suffocate, not even 'the grave.'
M.J., I sincerely feel his spirit when I'm writing The Kerouac Project. I feel it the most when I'm writing about his brother Gerard and daughter Jan. BTW, Jan was born exactly 1 week earlier than I was born. Talk about synchronicity!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 11:44:20 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
Thst's what happens, when poetry is your life, it does not die because your body does. it lives on into eternity like the soul of a white Dove.
Beautifully expressed, poetess friend! Very moved by your response!