By Jack Kerouac
Top identified for his "Legend of Duluoz" novels, together with On the Road and The Dharma Bums, Jack Kerouac can also be a tremendous poet. In those 8 prolonged poems, Kerouac writes from the center of expertise within the tune of language, using a similar instrumental blues shape that he used to fullest impact in Mexico urban Blues, his principally unheralded vintage of postmodern literature. Edited via Kerouac himself, Book of Blues is an exuberant foray into language and attention, wealthy with imagery, propelled through rythm, and established in a reverent attentiveness to the moment.
"In my procedure, the shape of blues choruses is restricted by way of the small web page of the breastpocket computing device within which they're written, just like the type of a collection variety of bars in a jazz blues refrain, and so occasionally the word-meaning can hold from one refrain into one other, or no longer, like the phrase-meaning can hold harmonically from one refrain to the opposite, or now not, in jazz, in order that, in those blues as in jazz, the shape depends on time, and via the musicians spontaneous phraseology & harmonizing with the beat of time because it waves & waves on by means of in measured choruses." —Jack Kerouac
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Additional resources for Book of Blues (Poets, Penguin)
43RD CHORUS Little Cody Deaver A San Francisco boy Hung by hair of heroes Growing green & thin And soft as sin From the tie piles Of the railer road Track where Tokay Bottles rust in dust Waiting for the term Of partiality To end up there In heaven high So's loco can Come home Con poco coco. 45 44TH CHORUS Little heroes of the dead Found a nickle instead And bought a Borden half & half Orange Sherbert & vanil milk Trod the pavements Of unfall Frisco Waiting for its earthquake To waver houses men And streets to spindle Drift to fall at Third Street Number 6-15 Where Bank now stands Jack London was born And saw gray rigging At the 'barcadero Pier, His bier commemorated in marble To advertise the stone Of vaults where money rots.
Tragic burpers With scars of snow Bound bigly Huge to find it To the train Of time &C pain Waiting at the terminal. Young punk mankind Three abreast Go thriving downwards In the hellish street. 48TH CHORUS Red shoes of the limpin whore Who drags her blues From shore to shore Along the stores Lookin for a millioinaire For her time's up And she got no guts And the man. aint comin And I'm no where. He aint done nothin But change hats And go to work And light a new cigar And stands in doorway Swingin the 8 inch Stogie all around Arc ing to see Mankind's vast 50 49TH CHORUS Sea restless crown Come rolling bit by bit From offices of gloom To homes of mortuary Hidden Television Behind the horse's Clock in Hopalong The Burper's bestfriend Ten gat waving Far from children Sadly waving From the balcony Above this street Where Acme Paper Torn &c Tattered S'down the parade Thrown to clebrate McParity's return: 51 50TH CHORUS All ties in Like anacin.
Somewhere in this snow I see little children raped By maniacal sex fiends Eager to make a break But the F B I In the form of Ted Stands waiting Hand on gun In the Paranoiac Summer time To come. 32 31ST C H O R U S I knew an angel In Mexico City Call'd La Negra Who the Same eyes Had as Sebastian And was reincarnated To suffer in the poker House rain Who had the same eyes As Sebastian When his Nirvana came Sambati was his name. Must have had one leg once And expensive armpit canes And traveled in this rain With youthful hidden pain 33 32ND CHORUS Beautiful girls Just primp But beautiful boys Do suffer.