Tim Barrus, New York Times

I am a communist. I get graphs. Since I am poor, and live on $200.00 a month (I am writing this on a borrowed phone in a borrowed tent in pouring rain), I get the hatred. Of the poor. The rich have nothing to fear. What are we going to do, a friendly march on the Federal Reserve. Most of my friends do not know what the Federal Reserve is. They’re crazy. I am crazy times ten. This life will lead you there. Because we are not human to you. You see me on the street begging for money. You look away. You do not think of yourselves as rich. But to us Tent People, we know who you are, and what you are. You make the rules. You enforce the rules. I am trying to stop my hands from shaking. In an effort to not go off and get gatekeepers riled because I am uncivil. And there it is. I eat out of dumpsters. Fights are common in the dumpster. But how would you know that. Example: The New York Times steadfastly refuses to let the poor in. So many of us are writers. You have climate change people. You have the financial people. You have the fashion people. Government. Law. Health. Art. The list is endless. But where are the poor people. Why can’t you hire (not me my health is beyond bad) one person who is poor. Authority and the rich write about poverty. We are not allowed. Omniscient censorship. Academics are allowed, and they are the rich, too. Do not hire anyone who is not the poor anymore. The I Was Poor When Poor. The graphics are fine. But they do not cover the wild animal of poverty.