Promonostories - Poem by James McLain
Thus it is, be it the 'Queen' early the bird
and like kind is the morning new dawn,
'as it moves us thus through the day
of hope is each 'kind is King,
and of that time, 'which it dissolves.
Mr and Mrs. combined formed a Speaker.
And none would be trust the wiser,
From dust thus it is, we are simple.
Where red empty space, thine isle
whence from the center it speaks,
Few would, 'but could, let it move you.
Ahead to it/it is thus,
'back from our collective
never faded nor forgotten is memory,
rich deepness of thy purple embrace,
thine it would but left to finish,
it does not stop, teaching them, 'they the next,
and mercy is tempered and necessary
void of each song it is long, 'our memory.
And beings are they not held out, 'dear'?
Splendid the deep heart the person it needs
afterwords the lights ray from the sun
which is life, which it comes
and having the upper light/write of the songs of the world
which is urged upon you as you walk.
Speak then, not of that but of this warm open thy palms
circular as the mind the wind all around us,
and upon that, 'promontory that always will be,
always with worry, always for they,
Always for she, always 'is my daughter
it is shared embraced, inside the friend
could you not once again, 'that which is you.
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