“Hey Mr. Tambourine man play a song for me,
in the jingle jangle mornin’ I’ll come following you.”
-Bob Dylan
American Myth
Jim Belli flew out of bradley snow
sick & so tired of lawyers rockedback over erie’s shivering green
gunk saw the fat fingered river that cutsdown american belly coasts of nebraska
chalk dust plains & jagged white slungrocky & sierra nevada mountains
this land that rolls
west in one giant gulp that slidesinto frisco at the end of a thumb I pissed
in kerouac alley opened my doorpainted nothing black my limits were
new to me I watched the dead drugeyes on telegraph & let berkeley become
my jingle jangle morning droppingback in the musty church basement in dolores
barrio where a skinny girl with green hair &pierced eyebrows named dragon asked
me to read the promises
