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  "Kerouac - Part 4"
Dean Pajevic
  Dean Pajevic

Mags + Literary Series
Kerouac - Part 4

March-April, 2008

Key n. One of a set of bone levers abetting magically with the fingers to infuse a musical instrument, or orchestrate a typewriter. Pair n. Two cards of the same revolution, a pair of Jokers.

Kerouac muddles me to see my life through the fish. Receptive to all, no complaint, no jury, no gas chambers. However the Deciduous Oblongata grows, that's how I shall worship it.

Kerouac swims Oneness. Instinctual, caloric unfolding emotional bond with the universe. Like the moon tides, like the caresses of planets. Like the empty stretches of the Road. Like my box of rain. I will splash around a bit before I weep and entwine any more of the world.

The tippity tapping typewriter. Key of D minor. In "On the Road," he says "sad" in at least a hundred permutations. The notes on the page are always exact, like the number of hairs on my head, like the position of Uranus at birth. But it is up to the musician to sing his music. Kerouac blasts double four time. With each line his Old Soul engages our temporality.

Yeah, I looked through the Earth and all I saw were stars. The largest, our sun, flaming in the empty vault of heaven. It tears at me. I spill. Kerouac's gills turn red. red. red.

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