Predisposed To Hysteria Poem by James McLain

Too you in the love it is to touch oneself
with a brighter hand.
He/him expanded you,
you woman have/handled yourselves well.
They ignore most rules and impulses
regards a thing by its eyes.
A cardinal is red. A sky is blue. A kiss between.
Suddenly you know that he also knows.
It is not however you know it's there,
that you taste well together the winter
or of bright spring weather.
Its his hand,
to your hand to take is overly much.
To carry it too much untill you do.
They cannot in its eyes look because
what your impulses say and may not be with, which it said.
No matter how ever it was, it may not so remain.
If it does not close a door it is there_ your lips water.
And you are free with a movement of freedom,
around and around as it dances, impatiently.
They are the beautiful ones of golden pears.
They remember
and desire to its mouth to itself affects to open,
his\it whispers.
Oh, when one is explained certain things, can love!
Oh, when one is predisposed to hysteria
and to see the column of the golden head fall
into a green wreath, most generals would command
to hold, even against untill the last, hills over run.