Leather Boots Poem by James McLain

As I leave the lonely farm, lives congested,
tall dark palaces and slums how to this silent town.
Leather boots give me your welcome to my silent feet.
As I am who,
withstand the gifts of they whom are yet to come.
Whether I was last night on the morrow is she coming.
A being appeared to me dressed shabby.
Clouds defend and I having been much troubled.
Mind independent of the body, kneeling thoughtless.
Looking up,
I put her in place of him on the throne of moonbeams.
Presently he is king.
Last night moreover a sphere,
and the glowing crown was the king and he and hers grasped the courthouse.
Incremental elements were clear never forcing applause by he is used.
Presently he pulls it the gown of that purple and tears and fear.
Off it comes, graceful voice and soft dove voice.
Bending the iron bar and never once blinking, which most can not.
The land and the sky which are responsible not, is the sea, my love.
To maintain my favorite little ones in order to own them thus from me.
It is possible the artillery is the cause great damage.
It settled, the fair unchangeability,
your the seductive rare pleasure of secret smiles
and owns the perfumed red hair as for me the earth the captive is me I am shaken with the net of my hopes.