Monday, May 11, 2009

a new poem

Say Nothing of Your Money

Say nothing of your money
earned in wet trenches

picking up the stones
tossed at you from the gallery above

when the bell rings one sharp report
and the retort is all get-out-the-way

or follow what's already
passed you,

you see when you look up
from the streaming stats

underscoring the rise and decline
of green and red arrows

that it's your jacket , pants and shoes|
you notice passing you in a huff
holding a fist full of notes,

someone found your closet
and all your phone numbers

and learned your script
better than you ever recited it
as if in concert, hitting the high notes
pure and shrill,

Asia declines
and oil bubbles slowly,

pork and precious metals
stall at dockside

and bankers
have given all the credit to God
who is not giving any of it back,

you trade in your car
for an old bike
with a dented bell

that rattles like a marble
in the bottom of an empty can.

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