Tampa Poem by James McLain

Tampa from those whom sent him,
the back section of their house.
The letter which is written never.
Each judge of his who reads.
Read long in the concrete box.
To be long it has died in remainder,
but because of a certain in order to short-circuit,
excessively why he would know.
There was and his et. al
above everything to they was there lie.



And From Tampa
They Sent him away,
never but always back home.
Letters never written.
Each Judge clever breed.
Reading in a long concrete box.
Too long to be dead
To short too know why.

The kicker
and theirs
Was my lye.