Lucre
White-hot and a black burn:
mind and face.
I look for direction,
see money and a petticoat.
I have taken up with that dog,
that plenipotentiary death.
What a great profit I made.
How I cheated.
Poems on the topic: money
Poems on the topic “money” on Poets.by.
Mr. P.’s blues
A rose told my thoughts
and I took to drink,
dined with my troubles—
the money horse,
the rose that brought
a slow hell home.
Visions
I see a king’s codpiece
on all the money
see a temple
in demands we deny the present
the Pope coming to mind
like a fat moth
Smaller than life
an inch-and-a-half moon
all my thoughts
concern money
Money rap
for days I have thought
how to get money
to borrow money
son of my money
a rose is a rogue
for money
words dissolve into mist and I must
pay money to eat
get money
Self-preservation
My accounts own me
all afternoon
and lie at night
like amber
keeping the heart.
Wage
Work is a great garden of money
which will come up
in the chest, a place
with no water or land
where I glut myself on fear.
An ordinary garden demands joy
like a cook committed to folly,
but not money, which is such
a perfect version of death.
It needs to keep increasing,
the whole good night
full of miracle.
Billionaire blues
lock into order in order to war
go after tar and oil
eat money
change into lead
O pain of my pain
Economizing measures
I bring things to hunt,
meet others
in books
and tend a mind
printed in ink
to save money.
Unbroken
In several places, the sea—
like money, the copy
of a copy. But having
no mind to break, it is
the best resort of water
on a fine still night.
Currency
I walk to the spit
to hear the water, seen
so often—
like gone money
left in a bed.
Privilege
I am white:
getting money for thin ice
made in an afternoon
(by elves?)
till a bed
bled my maid.
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