Joe Bolton was born in 1961 in Cadiz, Kentucky. In 1990, shortly after completing his master's thesis, he committed suicide. It is estimated that Bolton wrote nearly 500 poems in the 80's, most of them while attending writing programs at Western Kentucky University, the University of Florida, and the University of Arizona. He published three …
“Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.” – Carl Sandburg
"Anybody that could write a serious poem on the three blind mice … I just love it."
As I drove through the bower
of old oak trees
scanning 68th and 20th avenues northeast
I was scared by the moon.
Our posit on a curled hook, hanging straight like slaughtered beef in lockers of our chosen chill. Our sins and organs all contained. The cows had no choice. And I lament our still lives on their way to death. We shut down music in the mid-stream of a song. (Unwind, is all) we often say. …
The bottle stops the clock.
The fit seizes meI drift tearing sound of shot silk plosions below. Gray sun changes to pale yellow wash. Milt bops. Duke downshifts. Bessie kneels from midnight to sun in golden chains. Thin hipped, thin lipped, you come trailing your bluest India, weeping to any night switchman, tickling his crotch Sex, you sing, is just …
To snooze? Two gaunt men--the one I visited yesterday with bones older than mine; the other, today, my age. I wish to make a gift of my fat. I have more than I need. Yes, but the mysterious laws of this planet, do not permit it. If masters there be, in India, or in the …
When you die, you will look back
upon the motley, hurley-burley carnival
with a tiny pentagram of wry compassion
in your open, trusting eye
Come sit with me, in valleys
of my shoulder blades,
whistle something in my ear
No PC art could rescue her;
this thinness where thick plump belongs.