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.
Old Shirts
New apt. My old shirts long for hanging space. :(
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
This poem has tremendous
This poem has tremendous depth.
Starward
I don't even remember writing
I don't even remember writing it. It was in an old spiral notebook minding its own business.