A Name.. Poem by James McLain

From the cloth where the yellow flame
is whiter than the name,
my name had attached me to the body, time is time;
And it stops the hand, informs.
Do name and the name which can come mustard,
wild oaks there anywhere come.
Why calling my father, each too ask?
As for the parents then each child you telephone.
Before he/she has known, to high too reach,
because, 'Stacy' and I am me, obtained as an art work
and we would like to give unto each of those.
That wife or anyone worry why, come she does as 'Bobbie',
whether or not, I my daughter lists her name, states ' Caroline'
Or as for it's new found name, which is mine.
' You like; Charles' For my son, in order Speech to grow?