The House that Jack Kerouac Built [Second Verse]
I have found the weeds which Ophelia
wound around wrists and ankles;
and Chatterton measured the moon.
Flirtaceous perrenials blooms of boyhood
and the canticles of courtship, froliced under
the moon the sky never saw as it dipped
down to the well at the world's end.
As they wained and wilted,
I like a Monarch morphed-
a paradigm shift, venus, a white still life
the butterfly collector, only when
moths are left.
Still, I'm a kitten on your patchwork quilt
in the house that Jack Kerouac built.
