Shawn Major


I wait for you to speak
You´ve howled and screamed fury into the night
But now that I´ve finally found you
You don´t say a word

I wait for you to speak
Curious expressions scroll across your face
While I strain to hear what you might let slip
But you don´t say a word

Ginsberg! Kerouac! Welch! Burroughs!
I invoke your names and demand that you speak
You who wrote about bums and angels and machines and saints
You who inspired a lost generation to take to the road
To beat off the encircling arms of Moloch
You who taught us to look for the sunflowers in the rubbish
To find ourselves in the junk and black streets at dawn
You who realized what danger your immortal self was in
And clawed your way towards the safe hearths of the fellahin

I wait for you to speak
But you are dead, gone
And I can only watch
Old films
Where you can´t say a word