The Ghost of Rationality

Greetings from the Here and Gone

Dear Neal,

I’m here in Dayton, Ohio, looking in a storefront window at a headless  mannequin. Along side it is a photoportrait of Eisenhower – his head, a blur of light like the instant a flashbulb goes off. It’s 2am; I don’t have anywhere to sleep. I’m just waiting for the gray flannel dawnsky.

                                                                                         Jack

Dear Mother,

                      I’m writing you from the space-time continuum you’ve escaped. The car broke down near Salinas by a field with three crosses. The 7am sun streams through the clouds like the lights of a flying saucer descending from heaven.

                                                                                        Neal

Dear Allen,

                   I had a dream I was walking through a neighborhood in New Orleans. Between some worn, wooden stairs and a pillar with a dirty cornice. I noticed the partial figure of a dappersuited man. It was Burroughs. He was in the morphinewomb, losing himself in its milky, internal sun.

                                                                                       Jack

To Whom It May Concern:

                                            I got a ride with these two crazyguys out of  New Orleans Burroughs backyardbayou shot gun blasts still echoing in their ears. Like me they were going to that Pacific abyssedge of L.A. Neal was driving through