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A Poem for Dead Ships
Documentation of performance at Bowling Harbour 'Ship Graveyard,' reading out a found poem made collaboratively with the community who live there.
A quiet corner,
of creativity.
Bowling
now re-lives
damp, biting, cold
Wee histories
Tiny shells
Gloopy creation
sticking mud
Pain
in every joint
Serenity
aching
industrial in nature
You know;
when it’s been raining in Glasgow
Only a wee half will help.
A found home
journey, now woken
sleeping ships
breathing space
community
connections made.
safe, grounded
surrounded
by the elements
your boat rises

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