Best Togs Poems

Every age
is a nursery for afterthoughts.
I am a wardrobe for naked shelves,
naked hips and joints,
naked space.  Behind me
old clothes slung on a chair, 
nylon clouds, woolen hills
all only partly filled,
partly lived in.

I call them ‘togs.’
my togs once used to dance
around gyrating girls
on floors that...

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