James McLain Poems

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
...

Rifleman..you are,
supposed to be on,
next, do you still not,
understand them..?
...

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,
...