Tom Sinclair Poems

I am neither old nor young
But somewhere in-between
Lost wholly in the Autumn
Of our youth, the graying of hair
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So it’s World Poetry Day
I’m still in France
(A temporal migrant if you like)
And the conservative party conference drones on
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I pick up five pence from the floor and bemoan the removal of one of my favourite skips
Last night I stole a sealed kettle plug from a printer box outside a friends neighbours house
Today I pontificate over how one person's trash is another's treasure
While I walk into death
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There are two things in the top pocket of my coat
On this N15 night bus
A pack of three BIC pens
I've taken one out
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Muffin top overflows
Green trousers
A pram is pushed
A pair of married beggars stops
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