Blank Universe stared
me on Main Hiway out of
Greensboro — storm rose —
driving wet drizzly winds —
I was positive I was lost —
faces of passing cars — Staring
porch people — bakery trucks —
but I got a spot ride
to junction — & there in
storm, got ride to High Point
— but woops, already wrote
this — Walked clear to
Furniture factories at junction,
& stood an hour 45 minutes, near
bleak aluminum warehouse
with tin chimnies with
Chinese hats, & smoke, &
Southern RR yards —
& funny Kellostone apt.
house with Italian in-porches
with potted palms, silent
& dismal & unfriendly
in the blank gray day —
Certain again I was
lost — But — ride to
junction from a guy (I
forget now!) — &
there, on open hiway, I
get ride from new car
to Hickory N.C. 90
miles — with furniture
veneer wood agent who
knows Yokleys of Mt. Airy
& talked & was intelligent
(Sheepshead Bay, book review
for High Point etc.) —
at Hickory I was at
foot of my worse trip
— mountains — but had
no time to despair, a
blond hero boy in a
red rocket 88 (’52)
with frizzly dog (half
terryland Terrier & Sheep
dog) — zoomed off to
100 mile straightaway —
was only going to Kansas City
— 1000 miles! — I
helped him drive — we
rolled thru Mountains fast,
thru Asheville (Tom Wolfe
sign on road) — (right
across Woodpen St.) —
to Knoxville, to Louisville
at midnight (pickt up
lost hitch hiker in rain
outside Mt Vernon, Ky.)
— but Oh those Cumberland
Mtns. from Lake City
& LaFollette Tenn. thru
Jellico to almost Corbin
Ky. — dismal, bleak,
I dreamed em, hillbilly
shacks, hairy buttes, smoke,
raw, fog — wow — at
Louisville the great Ohio,
the redbrick wholesale
bldgs., soft night, — cross
to New Albany, Ind.,
where I drove straight
across the Vincennes etc.
to St Louis in the morning —
he drove to Columbia
Mo. — I drove another 60 mi.
to Boonville — outside
Warrenton he wanted to
show — attendant —
ranout gas — on road —
went 117 M.P.H.!!!
Kansas City Kansas at
noon — I lost dark
glasses in his car — wild
kid — KC washed in
station, spent money
on cokes & crackers
& ice cream — ride
to junction — Two Texas
boys work in car shops
for Santa Fe RR in El
Paso drove me Topeka
— got there just as boys
were coming out of
work in Rocky Mt N C
car shops! — moving —
Then Beryl Schweitzer,
Negro All American back
from Kansas State, drove
me to Manhattan Kans.
— we talked — Then
two cowboys, the driver
14, drove to Riley
on Route 24 — talked
about horses, calves, roping,
drinking, girls, cross country
riding on “Satan” their
unshod bronc — etc. — with
red hankies of cowboys
hanging on dashboard in
old rattly car — cowboy
Sam called my seabag
war bag — ! — at
Riley I despaired, got
truck to junction — sun
going down — 2 boys
who come home from work
drove me to Clay Center,
where I ate tuna in
backyard — & it got
dark, I was souldead,
I wanted to die —
so got poorboy port
wine, then $1.75 hotel
room with fan, sink —
right on tracks of R I R R
or C B Q — slept 12
hour log — washed, shaved,
wrote, ate sardines —
500 miles to Denver, I
have $1.46 — but
feel alive again & even
that I will be saved, i.e.,
I am not a dead duck,
not a criminal, a
bum, an idiot, a fool
— but a great poet
& a good man — &
now that’s settled I
will stop worrying about
my position — & — concentrate
on working for stakes
on Sp. RR so I can go
write in peace, get
my innerworld lifework
underway, Part II,
for Doctor Sax was
certainly part one!
Clay Center Window —
creamy snowy silo rising
Farmers Union CO-OP —
green roof & old gables
(once English style) of
Clay Center RR depot —
redbrick 1-story Plumbing &
Electrical Co. — cars
& small trucks parked
on angle — rickety
brokendown shacks on tracks
— rickety graywood oldhouse
under noble trees, signs
on small barn, weeds, piles
of barrels or bldg. material
in back — someone is hammering
on a plank — W P Stark
Lumber Co. hugetruck backin
in a truckstop across the
tracks — fellow in blue
baseball hat in P&E doorway
is jacking up a car — man
in RR hat & man in Panama
talk & watch — sun’s
coming out — US Royal
Farm Tires sign waves
in breeze — small Farmers
Co Op gas truck went
by — Tourists — Small
liquor store, was once gas
station, where I got wine,
white plaster, white fence,
green lawn, looks like
LA realty office —
music from a restaurant
juke — junkyard in distance
— nobody on street
— everywhere the green
balls of trees over roofs
— last night a thousand
birds from the Plains were
yakking in this town — from
the Plains Clay Center is
a cozy nestled settlement
in the Huge —
It’s the thought of Nin
that makes this trip so
sad — my sister didnt
love me, I didnt know
it —
The drink that’s bitter
going down, & sweet in
memory — Life.
I am now stuck
outside Norton Kan.
with no prospect of
any ride, nightfall,
hunger, thirst, death.
Brierly saved my damned
useless life — I went
to Prairie View Kans. in a
truck, in a vale from behind
where I was, phoned
him collect, he’s sending
— but why make a record,
he’s saving me — he expects
to see me & be all excited
in talk & joy — like I
was — but am I dead?
— I want to say to him
“I dont understand what’s
happening — any more —
I dont understand the
dew — I know there is
no Why but I cant help
it — ” But he saved me
— I went from Clay
Center in a car driven by
blond handsome young
reclamation worker — we
drove 60 miles west to
Beloit — I felt very
happy, the land of Kansas
smiled —
days that start good end
up bad — at Beloit I
got a ride from father &
son (father road
worker, apparently drove
to Missouri to fetch him for
holidays, is married to
‘new wife’) — to a
lone-ass junction at
281 — hot killing sun
— no cars — I thought
I was done for (was,
too) — I prayed to be
saved — a man carrying
a carseat load of dead
side beef (smell of
death) saved me —
my meaty dumb bones
— & carried me zipping
to Smith Center —
wrecked his car Feb. 29!
nice old fella — (on 28!)
I know the joy those
little girls’ll remember,
mother — yes I do —
And that cunt’s tall
grandfather — does
my mother think I
dont know those
things? —
Nobody cares —
How can they care
when they dont know?!
— At Smith Center a
ride to a country junction
from a farmer hero
straight profile with
little blond son —
at ice cream stand, the
mother said to her son
“Dont hang around with
him” & I recognized her
face & she mine — mad —
but I got a ride to
(this was off Agra) —
to doomed Phillipsburg
from carload of kids driv
by Marine ex & wife —
Okie — on I go with
dignified father & son
to that lonely hole
on a hill where I
think I die — 2 hours,
no rides, zoom, sun
going down, despair,
— Prairie View in
truck — but later —
I walked in with seabag —
Old falsefront western
wood stores, dirt, or tarred
gravel sandy road Main
Street, cars crunch over
majestically, on review on
Sat. nites — but not a
soul in sight, I’m going
down over prairie hollow
of trees bloodred, birds
thrashing in trees, —
I go to Public Telephone
little old white house,
woman long calls Neal
for me (San Jose), he’s
not home — her husband
in long overalls was
once farmer, gives me
hamburg sandwich huge,
says (& also huge
glass water) — “A man
dont know what to do
anyway.” — Sun goes
down, I wait, — dark,
Prairie Viewers come round
for Satnite, men sit in
front gen’l hardware, some
on ground, talk soft —
little kids hurry to
church suppers or whatever,
mothers — sodafountain
opens, I sit, watch happy
mother & little Gaby Nashua
joy girls — ate my heart —
& crazy castrated lunatic
Wellington chain smoking
stuttering smelling somehow
sweet & open air talks
to me — Ah — “Born
same date & year as
A G Bell a great
intelligent” — “hmph,
a Swede, he’s a Hollander,
there’s Mr. So and so,
barn burned down in ’49”
etc. — Pushes hat back,
wild hair brow pasted, mad,
somehow Fitz, I like
him, he’s intelligent —
“Kansas City was in
street 2 nights — went
to hotel — need 55¢cut
says man — next night,
need 75¢ says man —
okay, — not got it —
pushes me on left shoulder —
out” — “Dont work
any more since my
headaches started” — “Old
Mr Jones lived to be
98 — died a
mile north of that
water tower — couldnt climb
it tho, guess he was too
old — he was a Hollander
too” — Farmers: “Otto
is it? Hello Otto!” yells
Wellington — He’s sensitive
— listens when you talk,
jerks to hear & reply —
We cross street, longpants
niceman driving to six
miles east Norton — Meanwhile
Old Justin’s sending
me $12 Norton — goodbye
— they (longpants &
thin heroboy of Kansas
but sad & attentive) drive
me to hill of Western Nite
— hail down stationwagon
bein whaled at 85 by
wild cunt — fixed me
a ride as only farmer
could — man in car
says “Working late aint
ya?” — (harvest he
thinks) I get out
car — “Thank you sir —
and madame.” Forced
on them — Go to
depot, agent off duty,
raging mad I tear up
handful of folders &
across Rock Island tracks
to where sad cows being
waybilled to Santa Fe
moo — I go to Hotel
Kent, get a room, promise
pay morning (first I
rush for wine, Gallo port)
— back — waterf ountain,
grocery store, man
wallet — hotel room hot
— windows — shower
no handles — curse —
dancing below — 5 shots
wine — sleep — cold
in Fall morn — up —
wipe wine from things —
depot — joy of
dark shadow morn on
RR tracks etc. — rush
to WU — back (water
fountain) — cash hotel —
Melroy Cafe huge
bkfast. — go — waitress —
read paper hurricane,
Faulkner crash airshow
“Please keep away —
for Gods sake keep
away” — bus at 5:30!
— I hitch! —
Cursing half hour, deciding
never to hitch
again, to end On The
Road (pure hitching)
with malediction gainst
America — a sunny
funeral director
from
Hope Indiana with
particularly irrelevant
old bum carry me
80 mph. to Denver!
— “Believe in helping
out a feller — try to
do God’s will as best
I can — ” Never seen
a rattlesnake or
a mirage till this
ride! — Zoom —
Arrive Denever
ZAZA (Barbershop in Denver)
Zaza’s — blue squares
painted above long
vertical panes, on
glass — says “Baths”
& “1821” — Barber
Shop — little tiny
bulb light over door
on protruding bar, bent —
beat up doorway, gray
paint below the mad
cerulean wash blue
— in window burlesk
ad, whitewashed flowerpot
of tub with soil & crazy
redblossomed weeds —
smaller pots, weeds —
no decoration, just bare
chip-painted weathered
old planks in window-
case, a can with soil
& greentip, — a milk
bottle, empty — a Wildroot
smileteeth ad card, a
sad tablecloth over a
rail — an upsidedown
ancient piece of an ad
card — “Barber Shop”
is flaked half off —
Gaga’s — other
window has ad cards,
same — Inside is wooden
drawers, white — chairs
white & black, old —
cash register — barber
coat over chair — (closed)
— sink, bench — wood
slat wall — calendar
— next to beat
Windsor shoe shop, used
shoes ranged in window
Late afternoon at the New
England Sunday lakes of
my infancy —
The Joe Martin truckdrivers
of the crosscountry Denver
night — old lunchcarts —
Early Autumn in Kansas —
I ate a big breakfast of
sausages, eggs, pancakes,
toast & 2 cups coffee —
hungry on the road — farmers
in the Sunday morning
cafe, the bright sun, the
clarity of a rickety
Kansas town alley outside
— heartbreaking
reminders of Neal Cassady
— “The Energies of
Cody Pomeray”!
Alley: telephone poles,
wires, Firestone tire sign
(flamepink & blue), old
graywood garage door,
redbrick chimney lashed
to a house with bar,
aluminum warehouse, old
streetlamp overhanging —
Norton, Kans. —
Old shacks! — O
America! — What was
it like in Lincoln’s time!
— Where are all the
railroad men of the
19th Century! They’ve
all slanted into the