The Original Key Poem by James McLain

Your meat, there is your fruit.
Just out of reach within yours.
This time after when it comes means nothing.
How it hangs on in you, you feel it.
You feel better.
Full.
Your immense shellfish.

Oyster it reaches off into unlimited space,
and being abundant there, the thick liquid rises, flows.

It is illuminated in your unlimited mind.
Peace one million stars turning with the night.

Fever burns high on your head, which ever it does.
Lava comes and recedes and comes.
But when all the stars that are left which have lived
that have died, is the existence in you.