Tag Archives: George Bishop

by George Bishop

Ten years after he died
I was homeless, driven by
those unforgiving faces
beer makes out of your
own. Ten years later, sober
and sort of trusting myself, Continue reading →

by George Bishop

It could be a drunk, a cop, someone
so familiar with exits they don’t need 

a sign, they just take one. It could even be
me behind the headlights, going home
Continue reading →