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Remembrance of things past
where is our lost
and laced-up time
we broke up
about matters of money
intricate as an ear
my wife was within
Poems on the topic: money
Poems on the topic “money” on Poets.by.
Mutable
lying alone and thinking
I could be anyone
face like a cake
or a clock
great heart ready to give
body in peace
having money
Protestant work ethic
a blank
for me to fill
is a great venture to venture
my service my brother my wife my God
my profits my money my chest my life
my sleep
Philistines
who having proved to be challenged
by difficult art
must be against it
or profess that nothing
ever is beautiful
taking themselves for ordinary people
like unpaid money
whispering to me
not to dance
Journaling
the ice on a road
a moth wing
the very me I am
set down in my notes
this day like clear money
to be called for when I please
Timeless
time is a demand
in the present
to say something relating to money
is to back myself
into a clock
Dispossession
if talking is thinking
an afternoon doing business
must cure the quiet possession
of some undiscovered prize
and we shall get free money
calling the poor to be ready
for our coming night
Resistor
midnight in my head aching
from the news of hate
a moth on his oak
beaten by the green afternoon
cursing the wind
of our nothing-but-money lie
Graveyard shift
what work I do
is to get some money
but not so much that my pretty hands
come to grief
trepan my head
carrying about bad music
pierce this night
to let the plague out
Lumbermen
in the raw timber
I see nothing of the hill
but ruins
what a dreadful thing it is
to look down the precipice
into a grave
board on board
men full of pillage making money
of some honest joy
Cockaigne
find me
a place just wide enough for rocks
find me a land of fire
but no flag
a blockhead land
in which a beggar must have
the greatest hands
a world in which money
is counterfeit nonsense
like a king’s wind discernable to the eye
where God will grow
in whatever body
poor lord of silence
but I
overcome with seasickness
shut my eyes to the moon
The coming of spring
the cult of money would have
some other light at noon
stop the green
experiments of spring
and to take their place
a red meat world
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