eye biscuits again

 

I trade in Krugerrands because I love their colour the pale lost world I'll never touch

and Vienna Philharmonics their golden oboes echoing

(no women in that band!)

I held it once in Canterbury the staff

of little people

robbing rubies paying pearls

I unscrewed them lay them left them in the dark

and Emily Dickinson's brother supplied

500 dollars

to avoid a war

I shall not experience this winter

Christ in a temple!

while the widow's mite and Blake sat naked in the garden reading to their wife a guinea

burnt his retina

(all that was left of him)

. . .

and all that's left of me

is Scrooge McDuck

dollar signs stuck in my vibrating eyes I spend my money bin

on memories

then edit them and quickly perve and drag them to the trash

before the child porn police get in