Morning Fire Poem by James McLain

To think how much lucky; ; of making with
'you which I'; to make against all the chance cry to think
of the mother, sisters like mothers their dreams divided
but never completely;
We making the blow and eye with morning fire
of famished hot obtain a balance in this momentary space
by words a poèt said he writes with his blood I with my small pica bodies to write in order to remember to be pointed out
our dreams our humility our noises making.