Digging Up My Dirt Poem by James McLain

Flashing past you sift into my flesh it pours
a wreath of words upon
that smell.
Digging monkey finds a crack between the
scene unfolds your
smirk.
Laughing loudly playing smudged a shirt you
wear to dine the place of sleep
you sell it well.
Flatulence an art the wings of gulls the feathers
part you sip the iced cubed rosey hued
the bottom welled.
Monkey in the tree is scraching but the tappered
nails that always
cut.