Laclede the Artist

He is at home     in this match-book town     warmed by the nuclear power           brewed out west     (though he never calls on it     (the gas neither.When he runs out of ice     (commonly, I’m afraid     he just walks down to the river     and hacks off a chunk or two.     ‘Sea ice!’ he boasts to guests,     ‘Never have a better drink in all your life.’     Sea-hattans he calls … Continue reading Laclede the Artist