Oddball Magazine’s Parade of Poets Poem by Jake St. John

Old Highway Blues

On days like this
when the remaining
patches of snow melt
and the green grass
begins to pop through
and only seems green
because we haven’t seen it
for a few weeks
and birds sing songs
in the still leafless trees
and a false spring
begins to climb out
of the sea
that was shimmering
with factory lights
just last night
under the stars
who twinkled
like little angel eyes
in the great void of space
and I know winter
still has a few months
of breath left in it
I think of those
great desert roads
that last as long
as they need to
and how they dive
over the horizon
only to begin again
like a new day
on the other side
and the old houses
with walls that have caved in
as if the last memory
that held them up
has faded away
slowly pass
in some sad vision
and I want to be driving
right now
in these frozen
New England months
knowing that each of these
holy strips of asphalt
paved with the dreams
of travelers
and old hobo ghosts
will continue to visit me
like an old friend
who has stopped by
for a drink
and conversation
there’s no reasoning
with these hallucinations
so I sit back
and enjoy the ride

Jake St. John has been called “a neoBeat adventurer” by poet Tom Weigel. He writes out of New London CT where he serves as editor of Elephant and Flying Fish. His latest chapbook I Talked To The Moon (Wandering Head 2012) is a collection of poems detailing a summer long trip across America by way of back roads and side streets.

1 Comment

Leave a Reply