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