King Square, Bristol, 2015 by Tom Sastry

I am not a silent poet

This is not a poem about homelessness.

This is a poem about tents appearing

in parks and squares. This is not a poem

about churches that look like garages

or praise songs sung for soup. This is not a poem

about orphaned trolleys full, for the first time

of meaning. This is not a poem about

Keep off the Grass. This is not a poem

about police tape or the words

Forensic Investigations.. This is not a poem

about the man shouting  to the hostel window

that he knows Welsh Cunt Dave is in there.

This is not a poem about Welsh Cunt Dave.

..

This is about me being slow to realise

why the tents appeared. This is about a city

refusing to know itself, scurrying past.

This is about no-one offering soup without Jesus.

This is about the cameras that film the trolleys

and the bins…

View original post 63 more words

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