chapter seventeen : `` too late '' i ran , barefooted , along riverside drive , south to seventy-second street and then east to broadway , running as if the devil himself were after me , along a narrow mountain pass and , on either side , the abyss , das ungeheuer , the tightly wound thing unwinding , and the unspooling refrain repeating until the words became a gibbering howl , it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late , the granite pavement scraping and clawing the soles of my nak*d feet , the smeared blobs of streetlamps in the early morning mist , and the hellish glow of the ash barrels where you can warm yourself over a dead man 's bones , and the bloody footprints left behind ; now the park and there the shadows between trees and the wet rocks and the sensuous whisper of leaf brushing leaf and the silence in between , and then broadway , the glittering blade thrust into the city 's heart ; along its garish edges shrieks of hysterical laughter from darkened doorways and the smell of stale beer , tramps in doorways , whores hanging from second-story windows of bawdy houses , and the tinny music of the dance hall , the drunken cries of sailors , the white coats of the sanitation workers , the thing unwinding pulling me as if by a silver cord , my blood the breadcrumbs marking the way back , but there is no going back now ; it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late ; redeem the time , redeem the dream , singing , singing down , between the lightless divide , the vacuity on either side , careening onto fiftieth , where broadway 's garish light fades and the buildings are dark and a dog furiously barks , maddened by the blood-smell , bloody rock against bloody bone , and the snarling river of fire that i breathe , the river of fire on which i run , a fire fed by blood , river of fire , river of blood , and the unquiet voice , the silver cord , it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late it is already too late ; praying that we not be suffered to perish in the fire , praying we are not divided like the man in the ash barrel , praying , merciful god , let my prayer come unto thee out of the fire .