Between Here And There I Rest Poem by James McLain

between here and there i rest;
and commune across the pond,
bumping into the many.
Seeing rivers streams lakes and ponds,
learning to swim under the weather.
Finding all that flies while sitting on the wall watching..
America, where the pigs can fly, and they speak,
some times about the others.
Still only,
if they have wings, and there not drawn and gutted.
Is it because like others, the rising of the blood causes
you pressure? ...yet you know,
that can only lay with you in beds cheese cooked, in wine
and while others speak through your mind holding,
eating whats left of your crisp bacon.
Cannibalizing the parts that act with wood on polished stages.
The cork screw then is the weapon of your choice, back to
back, yet..the eye in the back of your head..
leaves me speechless, on parchment as it reaches...
Does it reach across time and space those ten paces?
Looking around between here and there...
one sees you on the wall..rubbing your wings..with your legs.