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Amity in his veins,
The gray, aging bureaucrat
Lit a cigarette.

He spied ice on a windowframe
How unlike its blue-cold form
Were the words of industry – warm.

Like sunlight on a monument,
The bright hues of a flag,
Warm – like the ringing endorsement
Of a product or a plan.
Like the gaily colored covers
Of an annual report.

Warm – like the newly dead.

© Eric Robert Nolan 2013


This is the last part of Eric Nolans “Three Dreamers” trilogy. Herein we meet the bureaucrat, a man so caught up in the ant-like existence of industry, he is oblivious to anything that could be considered remotely human. His own darkness has stifled any part of his psyche that could have been free, until he descends into a curiously mechanical kind of existence. However, there is still a flash of beauty in his dreams, albeit a greyed, dirty kind of beauty not many would associate with.


We have been very honoured to have hosted these three poems together on the site over the last couple of days, and we think that very soon we shall be publishing more of this new writer. He really does have one of the most accomplished styles and voices in poetry we have seen. Leave your thoughts below on this and other pieces.