Cardboard boxes are the canvas for a type of concrete poetry. Ubiquitous container for the things we buy, disposed of with little thought to be recycled into yet another round of packaging. They are also a useful material for the resourceful gleaner; providing temporary shelter for a night on the streets, or useful to make a sign document, documenting a hard-luck story, requesting a few coins for a meal or a coffee or a bed: signs that nobody ever reads properly.