jack Kerouac
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when he walks into the room,
there is no room,
only people
there are no people,
only faces and names
only voices and thoughts
his nonexistent pen
glides across the convolutions of his brain
Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz
The picket-fathers of modern psychoanalysis
And medicine
Gnashing our flaws away in gory applause
Look at the rebels of old,
of their joys and pain,
GRASP their sensory
EMBRACE
CARESS their views.
It's why we're here.
a foundation
CHURNING
DISCERNING
