James McLain Poems

Night can't wake, dawn moves them up;
and twilight moves to pass day by.
Where upon this road it makes us high.
Why do our eyes refuse to see, what few
...

They went home together,
and each and every,
night with many more there after.
...

A wrinkle.
Now barely perceptible.
Being perceived.
Is to banish it.
...

My Death A Mask, for life
And by the choosing of it
Latter for your selves
A few beds left unmade.
...

Born in to it.
Pushed here.
Knowing not at first.
Pulled there.
...

Graves diggers;
making the soil leach out even richer.
The hand only soft from the bottle
it reaches for, as it reaches for yours.
...

Her lovelies,
as she grew up
and waiting.
...

the ashamed crime of poetry it writing.
writing of poetry
should obviously never not be
encouraged - when and increasingly
...

'Some said'..looking back before.
My god looks on and but to the
very few he speaks;
Keep it to your self, move away
...