Money
Money makes the world go round and rather
Than stop its spin and have the plates fall
It's time to swallow all my foolish dreams and
Grow up tall and hunt for money in the bushes
And the bayou and the monied monkey haunts
Lay out wires across the pathways of the jungle
To catch me wild money, tumbling into pits
I dugged in levy floors and covered with an inch
Of bracken - wild money howling lowd and lewd
In earthen holes with wide eyed owls and snakes
Get me down that twelve-bore-wide-boy
Today we hunt for money perched on trees
Flying green across the moon. Catch it
Stun it. Put it in a zoo. Maybe it isn't money
That I'm thinking of -- but parrots, or wasps
Actually this poem isn't about money, but
Something else entirely -- so there.
No comments:
Post a Comment