Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Economy

Clip our ears 
with honed shears. 

Sunshine is fool's gold,
debtor Moon's silver
dross.

Trim eyes with blinding tides:
not waves, nor friendly hands,
but actuary.

We wept like barren Queens
when the market
crashed without falling.

Your budget
builds hovels
on our backs.

You took the mint,
leaving us with
bitter credit.

The coined heavens
are counterfeit.
Economy is nothing
but cruel alchemy.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Paris vaut bien une Messe!

-----Henry Bourbon