James McLain Poems

It has always been here but you never.
To many are your names, it is my, many forever.
Just when the frost of the highest I peak.
And rapid the stream out each door.
...

There is a mind inside the meat
We call our head's
Somewhere there's a soul while we're alive.
...

When if heaven calls to me then I shall
And the shadow
On my wall calls out my name,
The promise from the priest if I
...

What do you want where we should come?
Sunny her words upon him, she to him ask,
Remembering his or her their mother,
had never told them to go off with a total stranger.
...

As for wine stained habits of each woman
loudly another in the night called out.
Stones in hand, well worn and smooth as so many
monastery leader, of thine sun flowered majority.
...

There are so many corpses dead of course
And bloated.
A thick coat of flies and maggots cover
Them.
...

And you will
when you last wrote me.
September's bridge to the fall
Autumn calls.
...

it is why she is so beautiful and why should i not,
look at the soft eye, of the milky brown thus around
where in me to whom, she faces her vis-a-vis and me
deep i am, she is as beautiful at first each glance of my eye
...