The Scream Of The Wind Poem by James McLain

The scream of the wind
and the wish of the wind that cleans there; But you go.
That and as for the mistake of thine
and when is it already gone it is not,
worrisome of thy crime within I wait.
Completely untestable the child of time, whom you have met.
This evening from thy mourning,
'which one long stem and kissed you make ripen wilt,
I am not the sickness of father time,
but and as I gaze upon you/your desire
and the fact that you go off to loams sweet bed.
Eye, it is somewhere,
weak of heart and permission to lead,
'Do to go, go you say do, or not, unsaid I lay, come stay?