Thursday, May 28, 2015


Every empty theater's ghosts believe that they
Were once the Lord Chamberlain's Men.
On a ruined stage at
midnight try whispering
"Hoi! Burbage; art deaf? -- that was your cue!"
Some burly shade is sure to conjure himself up
Out of rust and cobwebs,out of echoes,
The memory of a prop sword at his hip.

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