American Myth
I flew out of bradley snow
sick & tired of lawyers rocked
back over erie’s shivering green
gunk saw the fat fingered river that cuts
down american belly coasts of nebraska
chalk dust plains & jagged white slung
rocky & sierra nevada mountains
this land that rolls
west in one giant gulp that slides
into frisco at the end of a thumb I pissed
in kerouac alley opened my red door
painted nothing black my limits were
new to me I watched the dead drug
eyes on telegraph & let berkley become
my jingle jangle morning dropping
back 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
by Jim Bell
from Crossing the Bar
Slate Roof Publishing Collective
Northfield, Ma. 2005