James McLain Poems

What is a Ten,
short. tall.
Authentic, a little untrained
table muscle
...

It's Both of Theirs;
Perhaps it is today.
Every day one or the other
put off by tomorrow.
...

Being not genteel and good night;
How do you make me say good bye...
when I won't even say hello...
and you wanting me all that much harder...
...

I am there within, sweet belly of that ghost,
And so kind she made no bones about it.
Elixirs muted magic engraves the host;
How long is time it's longer than most last.
...

Each psychotic trigger;
is one picture of your self.
Each time you look around
and see your self,
...

i hang on that cross,
and you did you know.
and feebly i show
as you drug me there
...

Only Time,
only time, only time
can tell it why i left
why i left
...

'Trembled' Your Face-My Hand
and shiny too is each lock of hair so meekly
Must I, yes for you, I will unfold each sheet so then
and left apart, one more time, you know I reach for both
...

you know it is the best bait,
and the glory hole is inversed.
The opening so small as i wait,
and when you walk by
...

Wisdom:
and they thought I was,
some thing more,
and thus is past again
...