Saturday, December 26, 2009


when that salt life or this, insipid, ends,
when ordinary ruth has been deployed
and while the tame dogs dice for dividends,
some corner drunk will slur into the void:

he was, like me, an old habitué
who loved, and tired of, the red café.

Friday, December 11, 2009

exercise 3.4.4: kitchen jigging for the tame and carbon-neutral

hard shoes for strangers and swift blades for friends:
kosher betrayals while industry ends
at a danish meridian drawn on the sea
where the last crippled man fells the last standing tree.

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This work by Robert Edward Bolton is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 South Africa License