there're no windows
in my cell
I get to thnkin'--
how those sulky
mid-western clouds
take their time passing
wheat fields corn fields
it's the gray wet mornings
in the mid-west I remember
the most--the trail of
rain on windshield--steady
grind of tires--
tried to write this pome
three days now
just stares at me
no go--
Indiana at sunrise,
roll wroll roul
to that big brown
river lull lowl luwl
ya into faded
memories
uneven poems--
'course I could
frame it some other way,
but for the drifting
thot thought thowt
gone--
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