How solid our ignorance –
how empty our substance
and the conscience
keeps bleeding
and decay is slow –
children grow.
The toothbone goes
Out of mushy pulp
And you cry
As if rocks
Had been dumped
From a truck
On your back
And whimper,
saying
“O Lord,
Mercy on Mission.”
128th Chorus
© Copyright: Джек Керуак, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111031809107
Свидетельство о публикации №111031809107
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