[wolfbittenpoet]

I curse you Sal Paradise
For being the man I am not
I am a wanderer of words
But not roads
Though often I have dreamed
Of simply walking away
And making a go of being a mad backpack madman making my way to Mexico City
I want to meet my Dean
And live dancing in glorious insanity with him
Instead of trailing along behind
Simply digging his wild beat songs
Or perhaps I curse you Ray Smith
For the beauty you find in the calmness of madness
Of your night on the beach and your bed under the roses
I want a Japhy with wild Oregon happiness
And learn to fly down mountains after climbing up them on my knees
I wish to sit calmly watching for fire and dreaming of old men who are seeking enlightenment
If only I had been born 50 years earlier
Perhaps then I could been a mad cat without seeming insane