for believers, doubters and hopeful pouters, rockers, ravers, lovers and sinners, poets, fighters and smokers everywhere fighting with their lighters.
That crazy old soul.
Wow!! Talk about dark imagery. A dumpster is where I find my poems, too. It's where I find a lot of other things, like a warm overcoat and snug pair of shoes. Short and to the point. Nice one.
I store my poems in a big stack behind my shack...right with my compost.
I've spent many a nights in that same dumpster my friend. The trick is dragging our sorry arises out of it every morning.
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