The Hairy Eye Poem by James McLain

When the sphere of the hairy eye is caught,
moving from out yonders treetop.
It is removed from the moist warm corpse.
Even the leaves when once can also become.
Each caress of the eye on your skin,
so very, very so it is in the middle of the storm.
The hurricanes calm completely.
The longer it sits, colder grows the rooster.
The feeling when lucky are you to posses,
what is only to the other seems being called queer.
Unhinged is the jaw, it is fearful, you call.
When both resemble a tongue.
When being stuffed, both truly fare well.
Does it not fascinate, there is a socket, where.

or

The hairy eye ball hangs from the tree.
Removed from a corpse,
that has for a while it has been and still is.
Using no gloves,
each caress of the eye over the skin is so utterly.
Extraordinarily blue and yellow and green and gentle.
To the mind the sensation is so utterly bizarre.
It has something to do with the crooning,
of rooster's horrible crowing.
Both are disgusting and to the naked eye fascinating,
and the socket when packed without cotton it is.