Poem by Doniell Cushman
Jack Kerouac was in my head
Again, and I saw him hover over you, like a father checking on his baby boy, his son with a birthright But you are Ansel Adams, and Christiane Amanpour, and you hang out with the money with no claim to it For you are a modest man And you once told me a secret That I kept only between us For your height and long legs will take you many places So you'll sleep on many couches With rolls of film you said you'd bring from Brooklyn This world is your oyster So you should see it at least And at most listen to the Ink Spots While you develop film We liked that one song of theirs From the Shawshank Redemption And though it suited you As you let your hair grow so long, flapping in the wind of the rolled down truck window Pictures of the lake we shared a summer at Led you to highs and very special poses For you are a man, though young Ready to set the scene You have Jack and Ansel Over your shoulders with a pack And Amanpour in your veins A lifelong journey ahead To capture dreams and art and God and freedom A birthright not wasted In Brooklyn, far and away © Doniell Cushman. All Rights Reserved. This poem or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a review. All rights reserved by Doniell Cushman.
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AuthorDoniell Cushman, B.A. cum laude Archives
June 2022
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