May the weight from your shoulders rest gently in your bed.

May the wind pick you up when those rocks drag you down.

May your breath be more free than the birds of the sky.

May your feet rest softly on sands of memories you’ve made.

May your eyes never open on a less beautiful sunrise.

Lay your tools upon the ground,

And smile upon the crowd

Of all the ones that love you the most.

Uncle Bill

—————–

Jack Kerouac wrote me a song.

It was too rambling for me, though.

He sang out his heart and looked in my eyes

from the start,

And finished in due time.

His fingers bled,

He hung his head,

And let those drops drip off from his brow,

And down.

And as I write this,

His eyes come up.

He lifts his chin like a king lifts his

Cup,

With someone’s else’s hand.

Jack is a friend of mine.

What he lacks, I excuse with time.

———————