At 32 you’re not 24 anymore, and at 43 you’re not 31 anymore, so said the Jack-O-Lantern out on the porch, waiting to be bashed and smashed onto Cockleberry Street … and it was the invisible night all breathing out there with a chill, I can feel it through my open window even in November… Continue reading
… it’s laughing about a pink shirt that matters Pink shirt hanging on a rack in hot land Nashland the mannequins greet with greater smiles than the real ones corporate propaganda BS blurbs hanging, dangling all around the world to coax the penniless to remain penniless, enslaved, inflamed, amazed by the threads sewn by the… Continue reading