A piece of prose from Jack Kerouak, turned into free-flowing poetry of sorts by moi
(apparently this section provides the context)
Yet I saw the cross
just then
when I closed my eyes
after writing all this.
I cant escape its mysterious
penetration
into all this brutality.
I just simply
SEE it
all the time,
even the Greek cross
sometimes.
I hope it will
all turn out true.
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