poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

  This is the house of the closet-man. There are no rooms, 
just hallways and closets.
  Things happen in rooms. He does not like things to 
happen . . . Closets, you take things out of closets, 
you put things into closets, and nothing happens . . . 

  Why do you have such a strange house? 

  I am the closet-man, I am either going or coming, and I 
am never sad. 

  But why do you have such a strange house? 

  I am never sad . . . 

Added: 18 Feb 2002 | Last Read: 22 Nov 2008 2:56 PM | Viewed: 2948 times

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