James McLain Poems

In the back there is a closed door.
Which most of you try to open permanently.
And you expect the mirror to choose tastefully.
The X at the center of the cross road,
...

today my teacher she ask me to come up front.
after the others had left come and see.
receiving only cee's i did.
my skirt from the year before.
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Standing under the roofs overhang.
Your head under the softener,
and fascia work.
As long as it rains on you, only on.
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Open it is stealth.
And you smile, thought not high enough.
The red bird on the tree.
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Being pimped a punk is punked by a punk.
Have you ever seen one get dicked down?
The smell of K.Y.....jelly in your cell is over whelming.
Raw the smell of spunk mens cum and ass.
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His Smile
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Bending over,
picking blueberries.
Looking up is the sky.
Full when the moon,
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Under the apple tree she sits,
watching him paint the barn.
From her advantage he is not
but still the sun,
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Jewls and If you look at your red eye once more,
as have I have known the proper glance
it moves to some high rank.
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Behold, thou art fair, my lover as the doves
beheld, art thou so fair, amongst the fair.

Green, yellow gold the shadow hast doves' fairest eyes.
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