It Is Thoughts Of It Is All Poem by James McLain

It is a grasp of nought but air stilled
air of skirt as air does pass it's face.

it is,
it's face,
your face is it,
it turns it about it.
Slow dance within it.
It is one dance in days.
It is one smile in a million.


Silk is it's lash it hangs from it,
from your only heavenly, it brushes it.
It is it's heavenly, you close it, it falls.

It is heavy in wait, waiting it is, skirting it's
you always around it, you it's air it's smile.