dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: money

Woven within

The white shell

Of your bones

Is a chain of daisies and bright lollipops

And musical lava lamps in full color

Stitched with a tie-dyed

Scented shoelace parade,

So your temperature stays

Halfway between

Birthday cake icing and

Fluffy polka-dot lampshades,

Your smile is chocolate brown suede

And a pocket full of money,

Your laugh,

Full of ocean waves and shade

And sweet honeysuckle vines

With little white flowers.

Soothe my see-through stomach

Made of tip jar glass

With soft green slips

Of conversation,

Too many clanging


Have circled the bottom

Until they sit in piles,

Staring through the eyes

Of the dead men

Stamped on their

Cold faces.

The young sleeping monster

Rests his snoring head

On a cave

Nearly empty,

Except for two bloody bits

Of bone.

Nothing dares disturb the

Solitude except one other,

Larger beast.

Reaching into the

Pocket of darkness

With claws outstretched,

She holds her breath,

Snatching and substituting

With invisible instinct.

Then retreating into the night,

She clutches

Her stolen piece

Of childhood fantasy.

A mockery of thrift,

Money wads are spit

Through the golden straw

Of the university,

Blown with hot air

That drifts freely,

Especially in highly intellectual

Conversations regarding

Cash and paychecks,

Lots of renovating,

Landscaping improvements,

Charging more

For housing, tuition, books,

From the poor

College students

Who can only sit staring

At the giant slobbery cash-wad

Stuck on each classroom’s ceiling.