The Old Gasometer

“A gust of dust blew through town at dusk but left me untouched
I have these borders, a garland of youth unrushed
I line the streets with silver and words like starched linen
I thirst for new beginnings but find semicolon visions”

(“Semicolon City” L. Eugene Methe)

Listen to “Weak Wines” by L. Eugene Methe here.