When You Dream About Machines Poem by James McLain

Alive if it does not remain love dies.
Love it is is not.
Sleep is not that magic dream it is not love.
One lunatic or is it two insane.
Are you up at night but sleeping in the day.

The weight of heavy feral cows and rural farms.
Decayed and rusted stanchions, without hay.
To love, I'm tired, you dream about machines.
The milk is all I have it's from my other Jersey.

If it is bitter with a certain taste you must give.
If it is denied,
you force the head back in the stanchions there until.
The request of love -It is not bitter,
but in case it is not.
It cannot be denied it cannot be refrained.
It is not but is confirmed.
Love like that is heavy and the burden -You must give.

The return of it is not for the sake of it,
but the characteristics of even larger amounts
which is given as if in thought by only you.