James McLain Poems

I can not make a bowling ball
grow from a peanut..
It can only walk around you,
watching your ink run, out the holes
...

In the beckoning it was she,
happy at sea,
riding waves of soft shaded pink.
A sharp sting of red, witness,
...

Rims are not rims,
lids are as different as are the cans, is
to the jar we stew our potatoes in.
The process is messy at times the first
...

When you,
touched me the first time,
You cried.
The shock,
...

You look right in, through me.
This window,
my wave it sings of foam and needs.
Unknown to others,
...

All washed-up, once more
again on shore,
against the old jagged rocks.
...

What we can, I peek out to see.
Grand serpant mounds.
One hill, total eclipse, of the moon.
Back and forth the Squirrely, squirrel.
...

On animals, and once being,
oh, ' you smile and yes i was.
And there you sit i watch inside the trembling
in your thighs.
...

Good councel escapes never naught,
from the eye publication being
and the dwelling of soothfastness which is never free.
When it is, however it is small and thee too thy it is good,
...

She It puts out of, the boy!
I acquire from her a sign for him to play - Because of June not May.
It is once more here, it is once more there, therefore is he, it she -
That naked turned ankle which when twisted is not excessively,
...