Is It Poetry (1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

You when I call, to obtain from it,
having been troubled from this youth.
Then not as now it is not that fresh for me.
It is not possible now to give up to far and fly away.
Humming bird song, why the damage to thee as to me.
Thy little thus from life it is peace.
Moving off into away it is hidden warm safely,
the yoke of thy far form.
Where the eye, milky the eye is curiosity.
You thus I am observed.
It is for the sake of his strong magnificence,
your being has been attached to the siver cord, thy back.
Deepest of blue turns green, I am with you, as you I am.
Gold, silver maker thy lined.
Thy velvet uncovered thus draped amongst the ruins.
Houseless I am of thus made by thee,
you see but this wandering person.
My clothing, my staff, your arms thus wrapped about me.
The hero never cries out when to often in sleep where you lie.