def poetry jam

some of the hurts you have cured
a mist was driving down
simplicity
therefore i may not
up to her chamber window
leave the lovely words unsaid
in mournful numbers
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
soft as the bed in the earth
on and on
be in me as the eternal moods
the old west, the old time