Burried In A Spot By My Head Poem by James McLain

I have come from that place in back of you
nearly fifteen times
each time
a little more puckered and damaged
than the last
truly terrible things done right there
and the need for
mind less violence, the violence
for some thing good to hate
whereas, transferring
any negative
feelings into that half of the
ticket in your hand
you can buy yourselves
out of any pagan act of right and or wrong
on any given day
milk squirting from some hidden
place that you think you
can go to
partake of this that and some thing
else you can't name
by the smell
but you would add to that which
taste good in the woods
up a tree
frankly you pass out and it rushes up past the clouds
just to shake each bush
free of it's leaves
watching them fall to the ground
in that one special spot
on bent knee
nothing can change what you did on that day
of many days inbetween
first to the last I recall some thing else
I forgot
it is walking into a canyon on the day side of moon
inside the slick wall
there where I fell up into there
that one special spot.