Jack Kerouac, Three haiku

Three Kerouac haiku, at random, as the book fell open:

The hermit's broom, 

  the fire, the kettle 

  -  August night.

 Dawn - the writer who

     hasn't shaved, 

Poring over notebooks.

 Blizzard's just started 

    all that bread scattered,

And just one bird.

In Lowell