And Buddha Smiled

I wrote this as a tribute to Jack Kerouac and Jack London, I had been reading their work and their history. The original working title was 'Two Jacks'. But they honoured life in their art so I thought I would call in Gautama Buddha to bless them.


And Buddha Smiled.

( For Jack Kerouac and Jack London).

You drank your fill
of the wine of life,
that other wine also,
lethe, alcohol,
what you will,
choosing to die
in your own diverse ways.

Both seamen adventurers
in worlds and in bars
with massive, impressive minds
that left us mystery,
and intelligence of history.

The Snark sailed on
over Atlantic and Pacific seas
to islands of strange worlds
we all recognised,
from New York to Denver, Colorado;
to the Golden Gates of the San Francisco
of our minds.

I see you alive,
like we who survive.
I see you sad, burning
with the bright light of gold
and silver streaks
in your genius hair.

You said you were a socialist
and you, apolitical .
You drank and argued in bars.
You spoke your truth and died.
You left your words behind.

You wrote our book, our world
for us, in poems and in prose.

I see you white shirted
brown complexioned, handsome,
smiling at a friend
who photographs you
on a fire escape in old New York.

In San Francisco long ago
girls stand behind you,
sepia tinted in summer dresses
and arm in arm, later, over snowy streets,
breath hanging as ephemeral fog
out of mouths in sub-zero temperatures
on Eastern seaboards, or maybe the
Zipper to San Francisco Bay.
Silver moonlight across dark sea waters.

Some did not approve.
Yet you did what you could.
Pages incandescent with burning lines.
Songs of innocence and experience.
Listening to you I understood.
There is nothing new to say.
I just had my own
vision and voice to say it in,
as did you.
I heard Charlie Parker say that too.
So I took up my horn and blew.

Two Jacks walked some miles
and Buddha smiled.