Author Information
I Cannot Be
I cannot be the thing that sets you free
Touch hands
Two so alike that it takes ten years
So in the furrows of the furthest earth
That hapless cornucopia on
Thanksgiving tables spill the beans.
Ah, the glory of being so right for each other,
No one should stand in the path.
No one should jump out as Halloween ghosts
To frighten them to run away.
You know thier story,
There are only so many stories of the journey,
Only so many dreams and coinsiding
Travel on your partner-ships and I
Will
Fade
Humble in blankets
Buried
Burdens
And pancaked to butter pads
On the table
No longer frangrant
From love making.
In the furrows of the furthest earth
So standing between time and space
Calling culling the exposure of
Vanishing distance.
It takes the pace.
It takes the pale.
End of the second file entry.
