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od, I cannot find your face this morning: the night has been split, a morning light has

come and lo! there is the city, and there are the city men with their wheels coming to swallow darkness under towers. Ah! Ah! there's rage here, God, there's a bridge too upon which the wheels collide, beneath which they bring more wheels and tunnels, there's a fire raging here over dull multitudes. God I have known this city and stayed here trapped and full of rage, I have been a city man, with wheels, and walkings all about inside, I have seen their faces all around me here. I must see your face this morning, God, Your Face through dusty windowpanes, through steam and furor, I must listen to your voice over these clankings of the city: I am tired, God, I cannot see your face in this history.

7 UNTITLED PROSE POEMS/ PSALMS BY JACK KEROUAC: Mexico City Blues

circa 1958

nd when I saw the light of the morning sun streaming in the city, my Savior I wept that there was such richness, I wept that Your light was shed upon the sorrowful weary city men, the melancholy women within their black towers and byways all the light, my Lord: and oh my God now I pray to you do not remove your light from us all, and from me-- I could not rejoice in more darkness, nor could I pray in the ignorance of the dark: Your light wide over the city and the bridge at morning-- and I am saved, my Savior! Saved by the sign which is a miracle by the light which is everywhere bright-- but Lord: give me power for my psalms that I may rejoice powerfully, with equal light, give me tears for strength, give me again these mornings of light and purpose and humbleness. Thank you, dear Lord, for the work You have given me, the which, barring angels on earth, I dedicate to Thee; and slave on it for Thee, and shape from chaos and nothingness in Thy name, and give my breath to it for Thee; thank you for the Visions Thou didst give me, for Thee; and all is for Thee; thank you, dear Lord, for a world and for Thee. Infold my heart in Thy warmth forever.

lone in a lonely world, in the darkness awake in night, night, always night: let me hear the bird of morning now, let me get up in the morning among men and

psalm and a hymn of praise: for there spread the fields, far beyond this city, and in the fields, the woods, on the earth, on the seathere I see Thoreaus, and Whitmans, and Melville, and Thomas Wolfes, and these are the colleagues of my time who have cried out to You, God, and writ their cryings, and published your name, and seen this land at morning, in your eyes: God I name You your servants, I name You great servants and great eyes of yourself: I name You those men, God, with whom I Cast my lot all youthful and vain in joining, but all old and humble in naming them: God I shall name You Names and things, I shall name praises, hymns, glees, wonders, and the incalculable gravities of Your life: God I will name Your name also and spread it all inside and around my soul.

nd what do I owe You, God, for my gifts: I owe you perspiration and suffering and all the dark night of my life: God I owe you godliness and diligence, God I owe you this blackest loneliness, and terrified dreamsbut humbleness, God, I have none and I owe it you: for I would have You reach down a hand to me, to help me up to youOh, I am not humble. Give me this last gift, God, and I will be humble, I will owe You humbleness. Spit in my soul, God, for asking and always asking, and for not giving and owing what I have given, and give, and shall give: God make me give. Old Job there of the three thousand five hundred years a-mouldering in his grave, Old Job there is your servant, God, forgive me for my youth, then, forgive me for it, God, oh make me a giver.

women and children let them look them look upon me as they look at fathers, let me get some light, some day, some love, and birds in the morning: Old God, give me magnificence and a strong back, give me the heartiest diligence, give me great mornings and the people who arc there at morning, give me some light, Old God, give me some light! and give me the fruit of my labourings so that I may see them there, and touch them, so that I may know myself as laborer and maker of fruits, and not as a night man and darkness man and lonely man alone, with no mornings, no birds, no fruits, nor children, no sun nor day, Oh God let me see these things which arc there for me, which You made for me.

A A A

nd no more psalms exist in me, God?-- no more rueful dark-joyed views of You, conceived in lowest loneliness, in darkest silence, in farthest solitude and fear, no more rich ripe singing talents put to use devoutno more?

h God how I rejoice in sorrows now, as though I had asked You for them, and You had handed them to me, how I rejoice in these sorrows. Like steel I will be, God, growing harder in the forge-fires, grimmer, harder, better: as you direct, Oh lost Lord, as you direct: let me find You now, like new joy on the earth at morning, like a horse in his meadows in the morning seeing a master a-coming across the grassLike steel, I am now, God, like steel, you have made me strong and hopeful. Strike me and I will ring like a bell!

O T

hank you, Lord God of Hosts, Angel of the universe, King of Light and Maker of Darkness for Thy ways, the which, untrod, would make of men dumb dancers in flesh without pain, mind without soul, thumb without nerve and foot without dirt; thank you, O Lord, for small meeds of truth and warmth Thou hast poured into this willing vessel, and thank you for confusion, mistake, and Horror's sadness, that breed in Thy Name. Keep my flesh in Thee everlasting.