Poem: Beatitude

…when Kerouac speaks of jazz, it’s as if he plays/Jack had that knack/he says a tune straight from his lips/Slips melody in to the meaning of the line/Firing from behind the smoke of what he just spoke./Shooting sharp and quick./And always from the hip./So what else can anyone say, that hasn’t been played or made or told from what’s stayed/We’re left wi…