No Refuge, Nor a Friend

CROOK rifled chest to steal every last doubloon
THREW my parchment and my quills in the lagoon
SUAVE he posed with charm yet executed only harm
BEGIN he now and reckon to the end, he’ll find no refuge nor a friend.

Secret smoker

ASHEN burns on ancient brown ash-
TRAYS. Nicotine stains on fingers.
BUGLE warning, hide the stash! Something’s
AMISS! It’s that smoky reek than lingers!

Fudge and the Wealth of Nations

MOTORing ships course tropics seeking freight, say,
GUAVA; commerce’s electrons dancing in their orbits,
BEGIN, yet never cease, tracing complex traffic of goods, inspiration, expiration of the globe.
FUDGE, mere cottage crop, also turns the gears of trade.