James McLain Poems

dear season,
like the flower of each new day
and humid hot, summer is open,
each beginning, begins as for the pressure
...

even today in class she, i finally reached,
boldly with her taking first my one she/her finger,
and inserted off guard my now two.
talking soft in her panties which filled with dew
...

and now you are going green.
strong winds,
do you notice her solar clothes
and how deeply resembled
...

As she for me
now, she how permits me,
as for the side which loves
and our windows are opened, with curly black hair
...

Advance then;
and milk it - drink from it-deeply-
spread it all around
your pale fair yellow face
...

She makes her foot cross,
and uncross hours spent too practice.
The fact that it undoes, she is best, to the father
who she plans or, the method now of giving at looking.
...

But as for that pink it is unprocessed it is salty,
in the oyster the round ball.
And as for the blind man,
assuming that the semantic ear of each contact
...

again useless struggling
beacuse out of it
to his neck quick in the sand
thus as love was he caught
...

The bloody smell of my, each after life
from yours each stained black is dead centered,
feeling the wetness inside of your panties
and of each group of you
...

from the inside
looking outside
from the downcast one with time
the city which with night became it never falls like dawn
...