def poetry jam

i walk down the garden paths
as i lie roofed in, screened in
friend, whose smile has come to be
just now
i saw the first pear
a flying word from here and there
out of the sparkling sea
but i cannot read you now
my soul is a dark ploughed field
who will be naming the wind
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
sleep, gray brother of death
i shake my hair in the wind of morning