Erections Poem by James McLain

A humble hut kind beginning to this day,
a kind remark left on the work of lifes great wall.
Single story perhaps two,
I climb the stairs the way it leads us up to heaven.

My young friends and all my old
each house on the beach it knows what we will see.
There are the old cemitaries I reminisce in
all that was and how we miss them when it works.
Then like you I paint best when I'm blind,
each canvass speaks.

I appeal to your better judgment when all is done.
And like dusk when everything is dawn will follow.
Now my love back to the porch of each erection.