Speaking on behalf of the homeless (poem)
We are not all desperate bottomfeeders to the last. We count them in our number like any other class of people -- any other. And we are not all poets, novelists, aspiring filmmakers: Some of us wouldn't give you a straight answer what year it is, let alone how that should be significant to the arts. I, myself, have eaten from garbage cans -- dry things, wrapped in plastic and not wrapped in plastic, drank flat soda, cold coffee, the dregs of beer cans, drops left in the corner of liquor bottles big & small. -- It's not just something cool they say in movies: the street finds a way inside of you and its gravity is not undone by accident. The ones waiting for the accident, demanding it, even, you see them where their souls have become possessed in hysteria, their madmen apocalypse of Christian Martyrdom braced in, fenced in with ubiquitous methamphetamine addiction or vigilantly defending some 20 ft. by 20 ft. squ...
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