Near 'Cotton' Gins Poem by James McLain

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James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

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Near 'Cotton' Gins

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Paper thin each lettered line.
Faces,
words that never go unheard of.
Yellow mound, of hollow blocks.
I am of things with eyes.
None ever hear,
Where you can't see.
Too touch a blind one.
That can't smell.
Where,
one may feel left out.
You rebuke me.
Jumbled letters.
Pen, red ink wells
near 'Cotton' gins
I, sleep by.

James McLain

Sunday, January 17, 2010

poem poems yellow

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James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

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