James McLain Poems

You can never know,
you cannot,
your Myst,
if even it's so.
...

Quakes shake your soul, cries
you look for a hold, to any thing.
Any thing but that,
which brought you here,
...

He stands there, a month
in the sun, golden alone.
No smoke to harvest, is
it has been since, none.
...

Drowsy hot, beats
wings of many feet.
Thin clear fans, strain
hums tunes in honey.
...

In sleep, clear hose needled razors eye hole, it drains.
In my dream,
ten feet long, black nail polish, it is our wrong.
Emo steps out from, this mirror, the two alone, smiling
...

Bee shakes, rubbing.
bushes to run.
Gold transparency.
lingered is dropp.
...

Bosh glasses, with
cool wets, suns might.
Ash runs around you.
Exploring, salty ground.
...

Your eyes,
yes,
every day we paint them different,
as is each day,
...

They are but the few,
wicked though they do.
They plot ts and schemes,
rhinos are there dreams.
...