I have not been anywhere,
done anything, thought anything,
and feel nothing.
that’s what my blank, plain-clothed
T-shirt would indicate to other people.
A man walking the earth with
no visible identity.
When I put on my Hawaiian shirt, however,
they believe my mind to be full of
pineapples, hula girls swinging softly in the
ukulele moonlight, palm fronds swaying
in the dacron, or is it rayon, ripples
of my baggy upper man.
Let others think what they might
of my images, or the lack of words
My inner tag says that
I’m size “L” and that I’m made on
factory looms in China, that my buttons
are constructed to look like the
real thing–a round slice of bone or
I am not so much anywhere on the
outside, even though there are places
I would like to go fling my few dollars.
Inside, however, I am lost,
pleasantly lost and hiding, within the
convenience of my unprinted shirt.
I have found an inner peace
free from the toils that never cease
far away the pains have past
free for once to everlast
listen to the wind blow free
I listen with my heart you see
I could no longer bear
the shedding of my soul to tear
the ceaseless pulmelling
the overbearance I could not fling
but now my returns are due
through a dark valley I made it through
for on the other side there resides
a lasting peace by the riverside
cross over the waters of life
come with me , put down your strife
let the river sweep away our past
let this river crossing be our last