You Left Writing Me Poem by James McLain

You,
and you,
stop in order to dropp me off to history
and you left writing me,
You whom do not write,
you whom commit fraud upon my love;
entangled within i am.
You and me and the tree, your laughter
does it not know how mighty.
Steps each step upon the stars made from the dust and,
but yet, the dust together, It still rises.
My boldness takes you and it does/does it not?
You are my source from which the sky asks why;
you envelope the moon each night in smiles.
And from history' From justice sits my cabin; not of shame
that' is where it happend; and the river flows fast past
and it is high from rain and on the side thier two sit and the root
drives through the pain and over there is where it happens.