Sunday, October 17, 2010


there's an old rusty dumpster,
in the alley below my room,
it's where my soul goes when I dream,
it stays out all night,
and sings with drunks,
feeds homeless cats,
and watches the moon.


Old Ollie said...

That crazy old soul.

Square Corner said...

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.

Old Ollie said...

I store my poems in a big stack behind my shack...right with my compost.

dim said...

I've spent many a nights in that same dumpster my friend. The trick is dragging our sorry arises out of it every morning.