Dumpster divers go
deep into the dense
castaway fray
seeking souls
sold, gifted, re-gifted,
sold again. Is their retrieval
performance art? I set
the stage with a table,
chairs, worn-out dresses,
a suede jacket bought
used, old bookcases,
more than one pair
of black boots. Am I the set
designer or merely
an enabler?
Questions to ask next time
the lid slams too hard.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 
the heated imagination of dumpster diver poetry
great one !!!
i posted 3 photographs of you on my blog
will erase if you don’t like them
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Thanks for your comment on the dumpster diving poem. I am flattered and a little embarrassed about the images on your blog. The third one is cool. Maybe don’t use my name. Thanks.
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