My Barefooted Girl Poem by James McLain

She It puts out of, the boy!
I acquire from her a sign for him to play - Because of June not May.
It is once more here, it is once more there, therefore is he, it she -
That naked turned ankle which when twisted is not excessively,
becomingly, becomes when it became, said to he.
Dirty and patched the back of the pants of that, sun in tommorrow.
The shaking of this, the shaking of that, the cause of his which pants,
However a bridge the hangs forever over boiling water.
With her, it is called, Hello when we meet it is warm.
By oneself it is never, the joy without being good, being lacking.
And if it is so, in that tractor/truck of the skinny thin tide.
It is calling each morn, it is always calling out to you,
is it not this, is it not that
and those items which half shown enviably so I see,
that toe which strikes the mask - ay, it is, it has hit the nail
of that large foot and finger once as in May,
likend to the clasp of the gold,
when your looking, inserting which it is said could be old.