hey Jack Kerouac I think of your mother and the tears she cried, she cried for none other than her little boy lost in our little world that hated and that dared to drag him down her little boy courageous who chose his words from mouths of babes got lost in the wood hip flask slinging madman, steaming cafe flirts they all spoke through you

talk, talk, talk about it you talk as if you care but when your talk is over tilt that bottle in the air tossing back more than your share

hey Jack now for the tricky part when you were the brightest star who were the shadows? of the San Francisco beat boys you were the favorite now they sit and r…

don't talk, I will listen don't talk, you keep your distance I'd rather hear some truth tonight than entertain your lies

I wanted to be a great literary novelist so that people would eventually talk about Alan Coren the scribbler and father of the great Giles.

Button-cute, rapier-keen, wafer-thin and pauper-poor is S.J. Perelman, whose tall, stooping figure is better known to the twilit half-world of five continents …

I will only make pictures that I won't be ashamed to have my children see.