Money is a kind of poetry.
- Wallace Stevens
Money, the long green,
cash, stash, rhino, jack
or just plain dough.
Chock it up, fork it over,
shell it out. Watch it
burn holes through pockets.
To be made of it! To have it
to burn! Greenbacks, double eagles,
megabucks and Ginnie Maes.
It greases the palm, feathers a nest,
holds heads above water,
makes both ends meet.
Money breeds money.
Gathering interest, compounding daily.
Always in circulation.
Money. You don't know where it's been,
but you put it where your mouth is.
And it talks.
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Comments about this poem (Money by Dana Gioia )
- Poetry Heals, Sandra Feldman
- Lovingkindness! ! ! Yes!, Mr. Nobody
- Poetry Consoles, Sandra Feldman
- Inner Cosmos, Curtlan Popo
- Coffee, Nassy Fesharaki
- Arrival , Gert Strydom
- Spectrum, Curtlan Popo
- We Create The Universe~~~, Mr. Nobody
- Most Of The Atmos Here, Curtlan Popo
- Marketing Lust as Love, Aftab Alam
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