A
Love Letter
Christopher Shugrue
February 1, 2014
Boulder,
CO
I
think of Neal Cassady. What if Jack had
never met you? Would he have written On the Road? Would Jack have taken to that ol’ road at all
without your letters to spur him on?
What if you had not been there to be his muse? Would Visions of Cody still be dangling in
the firmament, waiting on another time, another space to be born? What of Allen—who he without his cocksman of
Denver? Would his howl still shake city
walls? And if no Jack on the road, would
there be a school named after the man whose words you so inspired? Probably not and maybe good for them there on
the Arapahoe: then they wouldn’t have to
hide from the lineage made them famous.
Hello Jack Kerouac School: why do
you deny your lineage? Embrace your story and remember: it’s all about the writing. Oh Naropa:
Now that I am gone, will you deny my name when my words get out? Will you deny me because I am not “other” and
not worthy of a voice? Oh JKS: there is more to this world than feminism and
queer theory. Such worthy voices, yes,
so please let them sing, but why limit yourself to just those sweet tunes? Embrace Jack and Neal and Allen and for
fucks sake: teach a class on Anne
Waldman’s poetry: in this great future,
you can’t forget your past; you can’t deny your present. And when you’re done reconciling your demons,
let’s hit that mad road together . . .
