Travelers Welcome

Travelers Welcome

Friday, July 9, 2010


by Alan Britt

Bob Dylan,
a unique genre,
so American,
so adrift.

Almost like Whitman lounging,
today, in Central Park.

Or Emily Dickinson
juggling metaphors like torches
on the Tonight Show.

The greatest balladeer of his generation
sent Joey: It always seemed
he got caught between the mob and the man in blue,
into the streets of Little Italy.

Weaving the lives of Hurricane Carter and Hattie Carroll
into a tapestry of impossible retreat.

Giving us hope and leopard-skin pillbox hats
just when we needed them the most.

So, how about this balladeer of ours,
stumbling past a cracked saffron mirror,
through squeaky saloon doors,
fashionably late for his showdown with God?


  1. Enjoyed the images here, and the inclusion of names that add to the poem with their sound.

  2. Definitely some vivid imagery here; like the way that it reads.