Gale Bria Hung


kerouac's ghost in the hopi desert

vision of mudhead i see kerouac’s ghost 
drunken dance high on bennies and daniels 
feet kick air to a drum beat only jack kachinas hear 
thousand year clay earth dream and yellow line 
asphalt stretching away from the dream day darkness 
i think of the berring straight pouring down 
on the mesas plateaus desert mother canyon 
its crack open faking birth spasms and these people 
who look at me look like me but different more 
connected and jack kerouac laughs horizon sage 
fires of chinese poets who knew better than i do 
the loner connected to the world even out here 
in hopi desert dreaming of ghosts i never see 

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