Poetry Or Pornography Poem by James McLain

Poetry is a face,
covered in silk that orbit's the moon.
And that tree's grow in crack's with huge root's.

Peep shows,
where just for a dollar she shows
what he came to see.

What is it about that one special movie,
where it's packed full of people that came to see
two women kiss.
But it's only half full to one specific sex,
that came out after dark to see broke back mountain?

What is a bush without leaves,
or a tree so tall that if she made it to the top.
She would fall.

There are lonely woman,
who can wear out two or three vibrators a month.
Vibrators are cheap,
but the batteries are not and a man isn't needed
to recharge her coveted batteries at all.

Thus a poor man will eat the bad fish and never
complain, while he is stripped of his bark.

Tree's washed in clean rain that have hollow spots,
is a tree only seen in National Geographic.
Hanging from snow covered lip's,
swinging back and forth in and out of her mind.

A bush full of leaves,
means hair and things that are small go unseen.

There is a certain precision,
to the tug and pull and none go unseen halfway there.

And my twin once said inside to me there is a bald
headed rat running in and out.
I genetically knew that bald headed rat wasn't me.