POMES ALL SIZES (1954-1965) - JACK KEROUAC
SELECCIÓN DE POEMAS

MÁS ALLÁ DEL BIEN Y EL MAL.

34 Gatha
The world is old
and wise
And I am tired
of my eyes

35 Gatha
All kinds of young love
for sale
I can’t get my black hands
on it

[ENLIGHTENMENTS]

When you become enlightenment
you will know that you’ve
been enlightened all along
*

Alright, I’m sick of this
enlightenment– now I’m
dumb again– the
delicate blue morning
sky thru the tree.
*

Don’t worry about food,
Little John, there’s some
e v e r y w h e r e
*

Allen says “When people get
religious they start feeding
e v e r y b o d y”
*

–The morning of
the end of my enlightenment
*

Enlightenment is: do what
you want
eat what there is
*

The soul burns out the eyes

World, it’s about time you
realized there’s too much food
for everybody to eat
*

TANGIER POEM

Your father spurted you out in perfect ghost-form

All you gotta do is die
All you gotta do is fly.
If your father’s name is Dedalus
how can you be Icarus?

1957

How to Meditate

-lights out-
fall, hands a-clasped, into instantaneous
ecstasy like a shot of heroin or morphine,
the gland inside of my brain discharging
the good glad fluid (Holy Fluid) as
i hap-down and hold all my body parts
down to a deadstop trance-Healing
all my sicknesses-erasing all-not
even the shred of a "I-hope-you" or a
Loony Balloon left in it, but the mind
blank, serene, thoughtless. When a thought
comes a-springing from afar with its held-
forth figure of image, you spoof it out,
you spuff it off, you fake it, and
it fades, and thought never comes-and
with joy you realize for the first time
"thinking's just like not thinking-
So I don't have to think
    any
      more"

Buddha

I used to sit under trees and meditate
on the diamond bright silence of darkness
and the bright look of diamonds in space
and space that was stiff with lights
and diamonds shot through, and silence

And when a dog barked I took it for soundwaves
and cars passing too, and once I heard
a jet plane which I thought was a mosquito
in my heart, and once I saw salmon walls
of pink and roses, moving and ululating
with the drapish

Once I forgave dogs, and pitied men, sat
in the rain countin Juju beads, raindrops
are ecstacy, ecstacy is raindrops—birds
sleep when the trees are giving out light
in the night, when rabbits sleep too, and dogs

I had a path that I followed through piney woods
and a phosphorescent white hound-dog named Bob
who led me the way when the clouds covered
the stars, and then communicated to me
the sleepings of a loving dog enamoured
of God.

On Saturday mornings I was there, in the sun,
contemplating the blue-bright air, as eyes
of Lone Ranger penetrated the dust
of my canyon thoughts, and Indians
and children, and movie shows

Or Saturday morning in China when all is so fair
crystal imaginings of pristine lakes, talk
with rocks, walks with Chi-pack across
Mongolias and silent temple rocks in valleys
of boulder and tarn-washed clay,—shh—
sit and otay

and if men were dyin or sleepin in rooftops
beyond, or frogs croaked once or thrice
to indicate supreme mystical majesty, what’s
the diff? and I saw blue sky no different
from dead cat—and love and marriage

No different than mud—that’s blood—
and lighted clay too—illuminated intelligence
faces of angels everywhere, with Dostoyevsky’s
unease praying in their X-brow faces,
twisted and great,

And many a time the Buddha played a leaf
on me at midnight thinkin-time, to
remind me “This Thinking Has Stopped,’
which it had, because no thinking was there
but wasnt liquidly mysteriously brainly there

And finally I turned into a diamond stone
and sat rigid and golden, gold too—didn’t dare
breathe, to break up the diamond that cant
even cut into butter anyway, how brittle
the diamond, how quick returned thought—
impossible to exist
            Buddha say:
            ‘All’s possible’