And how sweet a story it is <br />When you hear Charley Parker <br />tell it, <br />Either on records or at sessions, <br />Or at offical bits in clubs, <br />Shots in the arm for the wallet, <br />Gleefully he Whistled the <br />perfect <br />horn <br />Anyhow, made no difference. <br /> <br />Charley Parker, forgive me- <br />Forgive me for not answering your eyes- <br />For not having made in indication <br />Of that which you can devise- <br />Charley Parker, pray for me- <br />Pray for me and everybody <br />In the Nirvanas of your brain <br />Where you hide, indulgent and huge, <br />No longer Charley Parker <br />But the secret unsayable name <br />That carries with it merit <br />Not to be measured from here <br />To up, down, east, or west- <br />-Charley Parker, lay the bane, <br />off me, and every body<br /><br />Jack Kerouac<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/241st-chorus/
