Some Islands Wrestle To Float Poem by James McLain

You came the same way we did, i don't know how,
quite now, crabs are getting away.
You will when you get hungry.
I think you will find that the cobnuts, have quotients,
like that chocolate you eat, from back out yonder,
hurry others come, again.
We don't worry about that, untill
after you eat your pudding.
As we each await our births, some [painter her words
we lay on.
The line is long, some wants are shorter, desperate for life.
Why do they chose one number?
Walls close off, as the hand reaches in like forever,
pops our heads like grapes.
The line is long, some wants are shorter, desperate is for life.
The soul is dust, the body is ash es, it's mind will never know.