Modest Mustache Talking Beard Poem by James McLain

It is that I am what you are.
It is that you are close to far.
Hands found me out it's nice.

Milk by the gallons.
Mouth fulls of milk!
It was in the valley of home.

Pencils twin peaks, pink erased it.
Modest mustache talking beard.

Between something warm.
But it's never cold enough.

I lay down next to your sister.
Asleep in each hand, full of Mr.
Your finger nail seen next to mine.

I wear clouds out white creamy silk.
Emily once it covered -uncovers.
I want you to think spurned- too.