Late Night Poetry, II

It's a poetry jam.


Camp on t
he mount...
windy, cold and warm
with snow

dew freezing
into icy blo-
g a
n

a clef. unto into
peaks and troffs and
trolls and such.
but don't

of maybe do.
the die of it
is dewing a
thing for

Dee z
Nut
Z
PERfict