Ti Jean by David Cappella

Ti Jean

By David Cappella

I had your visions atop the Medicine Wheel

one July afternoon and while driving Rte. 14

through Spotted Horse where I walked past

a row of caged coyotes to take a piss.

How the American Tao your words captured

shined on me one night outside of Sheridan

as I sat on a boulder with Jim and viewed

the milky way while cattle grazed nearby.

 

It hurts to tell you there are no saints anymore

and not even poets dare use the word ‘infinity’

nowadays. If it appears, it appears in glossy photos

from deep space telescopes. No wonder

I hear your voice now in the empty, naked sky.

I want to cry. There are no angels on the road.

5 Responses to Ti Jean by David Cappella

  1. Dave says:

    Images seen only once, glimpses that depend on the see-er being ready to see. Kerouac’s writing is, in addition to all else that it is (story, struggle, adventure, travelogue, going AWOL) is a series of snapshots, some illuminated with satori: friends pinpointing away in the rearview, a rose dropped into the Mississippi, the lilac light of Denver evening …

    An observation: I like what Cappella, and Paul Marion, have been doing with the sonnet form – new wine in an old bottle. Salute.

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