I’m halfway through reading Big Sur. Can’t say anything but Love it, Began it on a journey to Land’s End, the south side of the south fork all the way at the tip, the Point, again, The End, Long Island, New York.
Brother Ti Jean. I’ve been to Lowell, Massachusetts. Walked by the Merrimack River seeing visions of Jack. I had gotten halfway through it once before, the novel, Big Sur. I think I lost it. Don’t recall. Maybe it was the same copy, the same physical copy and not another copy of the same edition. Does that even need to be said.
The ocean seawater in waves at night the sound of the surf over the dunes out back looking from our patio . . . the videos I’ve taken; the photos shot . . . our traditional walk to Ditch Plains . . . we are revived by Montauk; resurrection has valence. Hyperbole is my friend.
Kerouac would have loved Land’s End. I read his poem placed at the end of the novel Big Sur and I know what he would have said. I am sure of this.
The Falling Leaf Review 