Poem: Junkyard for Lost Souls by Mark Tulin

In the quiet corner of the city

Next to a vacant building

Where people sleep for free

Two men and a dog

On top of a junkyard

Sleeping with one eye open

Dreams turned to a heap of trash

Sunlight blinds the unfortunate

Surrounded by privileged strangers

Silver and gold, driving a brand new Mercedes

While neglected souls with broken keepsakes

Are target practice for the crows

A wheelchair, a couple of tattered blankets

An itchy dog


A makeshift home for wounded hearts.


I am an author, poet, humorist, and short story writer from Palm Springs, California. I write about various topics, from my early childhood in Philadelphia to my years as a family therapist and finally to my soul-searching in California. These are poetic narratives that may have humorous or serious content or both. Either way, I hope my poetry and stories resonate with you.

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