The village dealt in sheep each day
The people loved this difficult way
It caused some fights
But all of them were rites
Into becoming a better whole.
Then one day there was no more barter
The exchange of cold metal made it much harder
To lose in a deal
Or really need to heal
A broken system they found much comfort in
Attached with nouns, tentacled verbs
a sentence to a period was passed
Feeding on rich adjective fats
growing exponential word horde
swarming over this digital expanse
replicating rhythms, splitting into rhyme
worms, burrowing deep into metaphor
molting adducing articles like Rhine
traffic that this commerce does adore
renditions of everything more
When I grow, I stand tall.
When I jump, I feel small.
When I breathe I feel alone.
When I die, I'll feel home.
17 reasons to mark the date of your birth,
I'll find and find and be defined by your terms.
Take me with you when you go,
Commerce and Science.
Formerly known as the Departments of: State, Treasury, Justice, Interior, Agriculture, Commerce, Labor, Defense, Health and Human Services, Housing and Urban Development, Transportation, Energy, Education, Veterans Affairs, and last but certainly not least, Homeland Security.
you came from lands
you came from lands
you came to our land
of Thule, and the City of Smoke
you knew not of commerce
and theft, and
it was a world
innocence burned off like
an old candle
and you gave into the
of magic and
Atalias was just
your city, land
in the fish market of religions
and suppositions and declarations
and fierce revelations
much of the commerce is done
on the principle:
Who shouts loudest
and shouts longest
and shouts often-est
gets to empty the most pockets
of bewildered customers
(You always empty their minds
You never lose in this fish market
Even the quiet ones
the ones of mild manners and timid ways
can trawl a good number
of faithful customers
You can sell fresh fables
or smelly old tales –
they are all good commerce
Of course some slap you
right in the face
with their fish:
That too seems to catch customers…
I think you stun them with one blow
and they remain stunted all their lives
I make a pact with you, Walt Whitman—
I have detested you long enough.
I come to you as a grown child
Who has had a pig-headed father;
I am old enough now to make friends.
It was you that broke the new wood
Now is a time for carving.
We have one sap and one root—
Let there be commerce between us.