November 1, 2017 c

“And for just a moment I had reached the
point of ecstasy that I always wanted to
reach, which was the complete step across
chronological time into timeless shadows,
and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal
realm, and the sensation of death kicking at
my heels to move on, with a phantom dogging
its own heels, and myself hurrying to a plank
where all the angels dove off and flew into
the holy void of uncreated emptiness …
I felt sweet, swinging bliss, like a big shot
of heroin in the mainline vein; like a gulp of
wine late in the afternoon and it makes you
shudder; my feet tingled.”
― Jack Kerouac, On the Road


empty bottle
at world’s end –
i taste you here
within the fog



4 thoughts on “November 1, 2017 c”

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