New poem “Kerouac” by Kushal Poddar

Kerouac

The jazz hand of the signal
mesmerizes the railway road.
Here desires to be There.
A blue becomes my face.
My tired car punctures the time.

A hiss bleeds out in the air.
I am tired everyday. I am the everyday.
The last roll of the toilet paper
holds the tale of my life, and 
the anecdotes of a pandemic sleep syndrome.

I call my friend died last month's first Sunday.
He whispers, "Hear the local train pass.
It plays the wind like God.
The music is God." 

Bio -
An author and a father, Kushal Poddar, works as a journalist. He authored eight books and has been translated into eleven languages across the globe.

Twitter- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe
Find and follow him at amazon.com/author/kushalpoddar_thepoet




By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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