James McLain Poems

And gray winters touch
finaly reaches this bend of the long flowing river
and waiting i sit upon it
it is not cold nor warm and waiting i follow it a little further.
...

Your intelligence; is that too 'Me'
and it respects your rights.
The closed eyes;
is for when there, is left but not a single star.
...

When it does;
is it predetermined and reaching out
how it is we have a measure of it so.
We with each new found it turns begining;
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' sexy mamma' sexy; you with your pink lips
and about which mouth you speak about today?
Observation; do I know, of the whoms that the garden
selected you not I today?
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'dear' how would you know it all; unless,
i said to you that I am frightened,
famished and thus then only.
i was goodness assembled by only you,
...

yesterday
i heard the priest
had died
portly as a child
...

High up in a cotton blue a feild of clouds
floats a body fair
Made it is from hemp and twined around each tree.
Example of it is, a waving off a vist, invisable muscles
...

silent oceans
all over the compass
the angle of truth
each azimuth
...

From early mornings sun and damp was night
those cotton fields
of baby
some times pink but mostly blue
...

Whether it is from the blue of the bluest cotton
which;
suspended over between this matter
from the flax more or less becomes less complicated
...