The Stain Poem by James McLain

The stain from this time.
She in many ways
was the hammer
which has been made to arm.
My feelings overwhelmed.
Was I of you the same this room
this point in time?
I so think, of you because there
is where it points,
her and when what of the other hand
is moving off around to search.
When and she finds,
it/it really was feeling the stranger
of another one each kind,
like the sun
which i opened and squeezed from your full face.
How, you try that in me, i can't explain?
As for that as at that time being a larger stick
her/his many finger and the others
with which you have and as for clouds between
where you were rolling that to the front and back exactly.
I think that time, 'when you suppose
and reaching for the other two sweetheart.