I Cannot Walk An Inch / Without

The Ground Has On Its Clothes. The Trees Poke Out Of Sheets And Each Branch Wears The Sock Of God.

Stop The Darkness And Its Amputations And Find The Real Mccoy In The Private Holiness Of My Hands.

I've Grown Tired Of Love You Are The Trouble With Me I Watch You Walk Right By

I Would Like A Simple Life / Yet All Night I Am Laying / Poems Away In A Long Box.

Love? Be It Man. Be It Woman. It Must Be A Wave You Want To Glide In On, Give Your Body To It, Give Your Laugh To It, Give, When The Gravelly Sand Takes You, Your Tears To The Land. To Love Another Is Something Like Prayer And Can't Be Planned, You Just Fall Into Its Arms Because Your Belief Undoes Your Disbelief.