You are not like the other poems that I perform -
Each line and nuance,
Each metaphor,
All fail to trap your truth.
You are not like the other poems -
Though there is perfect meter
in your laugh,
And your eyes,
at times,
rhyme with the heavens.
You are not at all like the others -
With these hands,
you were not written
With these words,
you can not be spoken
You were stretched across the page
By something greater
By the shaper of things
By that which so easily reveals
The limits of our vain allusions
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 6:24 PM UTC
You are not like the other poems that I perform -
Each line and nuance,
Each metaphor,
All fail to trap your truth.
You are not like the other poems -
Though there is perfect meter
in your laugh,
And your eyes,
at times,
rhyme with the heavens.
You are not at all like the others -
With these hands,
you were not written
With these words,
you can not be spoken
You were stretched across the page
By something greater
By the shaper of things
By that which so easily reveals
The limits of our vain allusions
