My old shirts

are hanging up

and go unworn

for a lack

of anywhere to go


but the thoughts

are fueled by literary dreams

and the rising sounds

of ancient France


The whistles of pipers

resound into

cannabis ears

and voices echo through


It’s getting quite late

in the night

but the fever

is still thirsting

for more inspiration.



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allets's picture

Old Shirts

New apt. My old shirts long for hanging space. :(

Lady A


georgeschaefer's picture

I have a walk in closet in my

I have a walk in closet in my apartment.  They get to hang out--or hang in to be more accurate

Starward's picture

This poem has tremendous

This poem has tremendous depth.


[* /+/ ^]

georgeschaefer's picture

I don't even remember writing

I don't even remember writing it.  It was in an old spiral notebook minding its own business.