9 Money poems

Alas, my Purse! how lean and low! My silken Purse! what art thou now! One I beheld—but stocks will fall— When both thy ends had wherewithal. When I within thy slender fence My fortune placed, and confidence; A poet’s fortune!—not immense: Yet, mixed with keys, and coins among, Chinked to the melody of song. Canst thou forget, when, high in air, I saw thee fluttering at a fair? And took thee, destined to be sold, My lawful Purse, to have and hold? Yet used so oft to disembogue, No prudence could thy fate prorogue. Like wax thy silver melted down, Touch but the brass, and lo! ’twas gone: And gold would never with thee stay, For gold had wings, and flew away. Alas, my Purse! yet still be proud, For see the Virtues round thee crowd! See, in the room of paltry wealth, Calm Temperance rise, the nurse of health; And Self-Denial, slim and spare, And Fortitude, with look severe; And Abstinence, to leanness prone, And Patience, worn to skin and bone: Prudence and Foresight on thee wait, And Poverty lies here in state! Hopeless her spirits to recruit, For every Virtue is a mute. Well then, my Purse, thy Sabbaths keep; Now thou art empty, I shall sleep. No silver sounds shall thee molest, Nor golden dreams disturb my breast. Safe shall I walk with thee along, Amidst temptations thick and strong; Catched by the eye, no more shall stop At Wildey’s toys, or Pinchbeck’s shop; Nor cheapening Payne’s ungodly books, Be drawn aside by pastry-cooks: But fearless now we both may go Where Ludgate’s mercers bow so low; Beholding all with equal eye, Nor moved at—“Madam, what d’ye buy?” Away, far hence each worldly care! Nor dun nor pick-purse shalt thou fear, Nor flatterer base annoy my ear. Snug shalt thou travel through the mob, For who a poet’s purse will rob? And softly sweet in garret high Will I thy virtues magnify; Outsoaring flatterers’ stinking breath, And gently rhyming rats to death.

In someone’s distant algorithm your mortgage was bundled to another’s —hedged— and stamped a new “security.” While it was swapped from investor to investor accruing fees and interest at each turn, your shadow partner defaulted and she abandoned her home. Someone uses your mortgage to leverage something far inside the starbursts of a server. Likewise marriage has no image— What’s a mortgage and who’s it engage on the other side of the firewall? * I witnessed a will which—the language invested with law godmothers the peacock’s fanned screech— would take care of the baby in the event of a [blesses herself] It lives at the Cathedral and seems to be some kind of mascot for Baptisms * Securities: The future art you’ll make and its pleasure is hedged against the boys who died you fancied.

My change: a nickel caked with finger grime; two nicked quarters not long for this life, worth more for keeping dead eyes shut than bus fare; a dime, shining in sunshine like a new dime; grubby pennies, one stamped the year of my birth, no brighter than I from 40 years of wear. What purses, piggy banks, and window sills have these coins known, their presidential heads pinched into what beggar's chalky palm-- they circulate like tarnished red blood cells, all of us exchanging the merest film of our lives, and the lives of those long dead. And now my turn in the convenience store, I hand over my fist of change, still warm, to the bored, lip-pierced check-out girl, once more to be spun down cigarette machines, hurled in fountains, flipped for luck--these dirty charms chiming in the dark pockets of the world.

The peasant Corus of his wealth does boast, Yet he’s scarce worth twice twenty pounds at most. I chanc’d to word once with this lowly swain, He called me base, and beggar in disdain. To try the truth hereof I rate myself, And cast the little count of all my wealth. See how much Hebrew, Greek, and Poetry, Latin Rhetoric, and Philosophy, Reading, and sense in sciences profound, All valued, are not worth forty pounds.

With Usura With usura hath no man a house of good stone each block cut smooth and well fitting that design might cover their face, with usura hath no man a painted paradise on his church wall harpes et luz or where virgin receiveth message and halo projects from incision, with usura seeth no man Gonzaga his heirs and his concubines no picture is made to endure nor to live with but it is made to sell and sell quickly with usura, sin against nature, is thy bread ever more of stale rags is thy bread dry as paper, with no mountain wheat, no strong flour with usura the line grows thick with usura is no clear demarcation and no man can find site for his dwelling. Stonecutter is kept from his tone weaver is kept from his loom WITH USURA wool comes not to market sheep bringeth no gain with usura Usura is a murrain, usura blunteth the needle in the maid’s hand and stoppeth the spinner’s cunning. Pietro Lombardo came not by usura Duccio came not by usura nor Pier della Francesca; Zuan Bellin’ not by usura nor was ‘La Calunnia’ painted. Came not by usura Angelico; came not Ambrogio Praedis, Came no church of cut stone signed:Adamo me fecit. Not by usura St. Trophime Not by usura Saint Hilaire, Usura rusteth the chisel It rusteth the craft and the craftsman It gnaweth the thread in the loom None learneth to weave gold in her pattern; Azure hath a canker by usura; cramoisi is unbroidered Emerald findeth no Memling Usura slayeth the child in the womb It stayeth the young man’s courting It hath brought palsey to bed, lyeth between the young bride and her bridegroom CONTRA NATURAM They have brought whores for Eleusis Corpses are set to banquet at behest of usura. N.B. Usury: A charge for the use of purchasing power, levied without regard to production; often without regard to the possibilities of production. (Hence the failure of the Medici bank.)

They have us corralled in the basement of the courthouse. One desk and a row of folding chairs— just like first grade, our desks facing Teacher in neat little rows. Upstairs, wooden benches like pews and red carpet reserved for those who’ve held out the longest. No creditors have come to claim us today. We’re small-time. This guy from the graveyard shift stares at his steel-toed boots, nervous hands in his lap. None of us look each other in the eye. We steal quick looks—how did you get here

My economy is circular: I earn money from an institution that owns most of the businesses where I tend to spend most of my money. My economy is quasi-medieval, trade-centered, and guild-like. My economy is not canonical. My economy is a misfortune that recently befell me. My economy admits foundational narratives. My economy is language. My economy is the executioner’s reversal of fortune. My economy has no essential features. My economy admits parallax critiques of ideology. My economy owes something to over 4,136 dead soldiers. My economy does not intimate and would rather not split hairs about what belongs to whom. My economy can’t stay out of things, but can’t make it into the thick of things either. My economy has questionable purchasing power. My economy has no surrogate. My economy has no interpretative skills but is rife with interpretative communi- ties. My economy is of trees chopped down in Brooklyn, and the gradual encir- cling of brick. My economy is the new red. My economy thrives on shades of gray. My economy is an unremarkable tuna sandwich that is missing the slices of tomato that I had asked for. My economy is a liter bottle of Poland Spring water coming not from Poland but from Maine and bought at a university cafeteria in Uptown Manhattan where there are quite a number of water foundations that deliver water with a funky metallic aftertaste. My economy is a poem called “First Purchase of the Month” consisting of two stanzas with six eight-word lines each within a larger poem that could be endless but won’t be: Could’ve been an outfit for the Whitney Biennial Couldn’t afford one, nor did I need it. Who cares how you look at the zoo; it’s about the animals, stupid. Which reminds me, could’ve been the trail mix I snacked on & which I managed not to purchase myself. It was tuna on whole wheat, lettuce, jalapeños; a one liter bottle of water (Poland Spring.) Asked for tomato too, which the lady forgot. You Puerto Rican, she asked? Don’t think so, said another one in Spanish. Let me answer. No, what made you think so? The peppers? My economy needs contractions and abbreviations. My economy is not fixed. My economy is broken, mispronounced. My economy has cold feet, even if there are plenty of socks at home. My economy would like to be wholesome and sound. My economy is a gift certificate that is not enough for what I’d like to have, so I end up spending money at a store that I dislike in the first place and will never visit again. My economy is a business lunch where I end up paying the bill instead of the person who’d like me to work with her. My economy consists of performing tasks for which I receive no quantifi- able pay. My economy grows when it’s enough to buy someone else a drink, or a meal. My economy does not allow me to say no. My economy pretends to be booming, but instead, is shaky and imploding. It doesn’t matter, because my economy is predicated on virtue, and it posits that it’s purer than yours. My economy has no exchange value. I’d like to think of my economy as one of resistance and tactical difference. My economy is not a disposable good. There are no surpluses in my economy. I already owe what I just wrote. My economy is derivative, parasitical, and residual. My economy is a hand-me-down. My economy is not environmentally friendly, although it’s not ravaging non-renewable resources either. My economy doesn’t force me to put my money where my mouth is. Were I to pay for what I say, it would be a different story. Thirteen cents a word is not fair trade. My economy mistakes what it means to trade in futures. In theory my economy is not the result of deliberate choice, it is makeshift and a tag-along. My economy has double standards. My economy has attention deficit disorder. My economy is the symptom of an incurable disease. My economy is not even mine. Word count: 682

i asked for a raise they said they'd look into it that was eight months ago i've stopped reminding them which is probably a problem

Rent due on the first every first forever the account drains and fills and drains again this is the rhythm