This book is dedicated to Jan Kerouac, the late daughter of Jack
Kerouac who I knew well in the 60's in Yelapa, Mexico, with the
hippies, 30 miles from any road. She lived in a thatched hut next
to mine there. I remember seeing later, in the English, Mexico City
News, "Jack Kerouac's Daughter, Jan Kerouac, has disappeared,
whereabouts unknown." The first poem in the book is a poem I wrote
to the spirit of Jan. Here is a small quote from that poem: "We
know the significance of us being a piece of the big puzzle but we
don't see all the pieces together melded as one demur picture...we
seem so separate, but so cock-sure. "Things slip by," don't they
Jan? My memory is flashing...this wheel is on fire " The first
chapter of her Memoirs, "Baby Driver," is like a recording tape of
everything she had echoed to me in casual conversation. I think she
thought things out in plots from the very beginning. You can find
out more about me by going to: http: //sanfranciscopoetry.blip.tv
http: //mysticbabylon.podomatic.com http:
//littlebirdtoldme.podomatic.com http: //poetryhotel.podomatic.com
(A collaboration of videos with poetess friend Clara Hsu) http:
//writerunion.podomatic.com (Unofficial San Francisco Writers Union
videos produced by me.)
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