Down and OutHere’s something I wrote during last year’s festival in Edinburgh when I observed that, despite the atmosphere of celebration, misfortune does not take a holiday.


Posters peel from dusty windows
Revellers go hell for leather,
Schedules bursting,
Next one, next one,
The next one,
Past the doorway
Where dog-ends
Float in dog piss
And the grey man,
Whose vomit
Has met his lung,
Quietly expires.
He didn’t even get a show in

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