Nor Could I Foretell You
NOR COULD I FORETELL YOU
Before I leave I could see
Bated hoods ofTrials
Of love and life .
Protruding stuffed pocktes
Of havesack
Moth eaten trails and judgements
Of our love and life .
Heaving I left the terrain
Seeing not wayside brooks and inns
Exiles glaring and grunting
Nor could I foretell you for good.
Cab moved disinterestedly
Before I could hear
A deep moan fading out
That rose from our soul
Inside the embalmed body
Of our life.
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