The Poetry Recession

I often wonder what the world would be like if poetry could be used as a currency. I averaged out my hourly pay rate as a poet these past thirty years, and it turns out I make .009 cents an hour. I doubt anyone in any other profession would consider working for those wages. Here's a poem I found in the stacks that I'd like to take another whack of finishing. It's titled "Poetry Recession."

Poetry Recession

On day 16 after
The Crash, poets
Are finally allowed
To stand on line
For withdrawals

They form a buffer
Between pawnbrokers
And prostitutes

"The sons-a-bitches
Are paying off
In poems,"
Grumbles the first
Poet through the chute.
"What the hell am
I supposed to do
With poems?"

Three or four of
The prostitutes make
Constructive suggestions,

     Here's the point where I should be able to drive this poem home with almost zero degree of difficulty, but I keep three putting. Over a ten year period this is probably the seventh or eighth time I've had this poem out looking to close it up, but I can't. Some of these poems I eventually will throw away, with the understanding that if there are any meaningful images or words in them they'll return eventually. I guess it looks like this one goes back in the stack, again.  Pin It