You would not believe, would you
That I came from good Welsh stock?
That I was purer blooded than the white trash here?
And of more direct lineage than the New Englanders
And Virginians of Spoon River?
You would not believe that I had been to school
And read some books.
You saw me only as a run-down man,
With matted hair and beard
And ragged clothes.
Sometimes a man’s life turns into a cancer
From being bruised and continually bruised,
And swells into a purplish mass,
Like growths on stalks of corn.
Here was I, a carpenter, mired in a bog of life
Into which I walked, thinking it was a meadow,
With a slattern for a wife, and poor Minerva, my daughter,
Whom you tormented and drove to death.
So I crept, crept, like a snail through the days
Of my life.
No more you hear my footsteps in the morning,
Resounding on the hollow sidewalk,
Going to the grocery store for a little corn meal
And a nickel’s worth of bacon.
In Masters poem “Indignation Jones” what it the literary term that describes “hollow sidewalk”?
Hi, I wrote a song using Indi Jones words from a book named Wisconsin Death Trip – Its on my album – Revelations by the New Zealots (my band) – after putting Indi Jones into Google I find it is a poem by Mr. Masters! – I hope Mr. M don’t mind – after all its a Wicked song! – Love Robbo, Port Chalmers New Zealand