Of Crosses and Sceptors

they crucified Kerouac on that cross of the cool
and where Christ’s cross read I. N. R. I. on Kerouac’s
they inscribed B. E. A. T.

       and he hung there, like their sad clown
       drowning in the drink and tears and tears and tears

sometimes you gotta say the thing, the thing that’s of the moment,
       but the moment's always moving, so sometimes change
       the things you said

               don’t let them place that thorned crown on your head,
               that fixedness, that stagnance, that death of your
                               own growth


       not bodies of soot and grime
               but glorious sunflowers
                       sitting on tincan
                       banana
                       docks …