Through the rain and fog, it wasn’t even possible to see across the harbour from Tin Can Beach. It was silent except for the rolling wind and the occasional horn coming through the fog and rain.
A striking union employee addresses a poem to their General Secretary, a union boss in dispute with his own workers.
Dedicated to Taylor, and to every other prisoner who has died at HMP Eastwood Park.
Covering March and April, this is the first part of an epic poem reflecting on a year of revolt, loss, growth, and care from the Triangle region of North Carolina.
A collection of short poems by Phil Williamson on anarchism, the police, landlords & the Brexit Party.
