James McLain Poems

Being a prepubescent boy of twelve, and death
was a tent
under which we and others would know no sleep.
...

Because nothing grew there when I was young.
For so long it was barren.
Flowers that bloom deep purple and red.
Pink flamingos that soar high over head.
...

Wading through the sand hip deep
too reach the edge
that drops off into the rolling thunder
an abyss of blinding yellow partial conciliated light
...

Oh and your blinking pink God,
tonight the phone calls so hurried
and come they do one after the other.
Yes i am the turd you dug out of your
...

Seeing all of me, just as I am
the waters soft touch upon me.
Coming out/in from the sea
like the waves lapping up, 'behind you.
...

I gave up unto you my only son
in February of ninteen and eighty nine.

And if and when he comes searching
...

as simple is it not as simple that it does

and i am one only to you
...

Swords and guns fall from the hands of the living
and wreaths for the dead come alive.
Come, as I softly ask
do you not even now have the big picture that none
...

Yellow a flower
the green wheel a field
and their I stand
with you up in the middle
...

Guard are only trained as guards
are guards are razor wired and armed to kill control.
Those the menataly ill,
have control of a cell inside of their mind is all.
...