News Poetry: On the Declining Value of the Dollar
One hundred, becomes ninety-eight,
becomes eighty-two, becomes sixty-one,
and so on. A corpse dripping blood
is still a corpse. Though if you gather
the drippings, you can make a soup
on which thin children might feed.
Or stray dogs. How they like to lick the pot
until they see, in the shiny bottom, their own
ravenous faces, which makes them go berserk,
howling, and tearing at each other – exactly
what we need for the dollar to rise, for markets
to open, to make America great again.
Photo credit: Frankieleon, Creative Commons, Flickr
Like this story? Steal it! Feel free to republish it in part or in full, just please give credit to The Colorado Independent and add a link to the original.
Red Tent Bazaar Fundraiser for The Colorado Independent Wear red and join us for a night of drinks, music, dancing and laughter to benefit The […]Read More
The Home Front: Methane leaks from oil and gas industry ‘offset much of the climate benefits of burning natural gas,’ study says
“The U.S. oil and gas industry emits 13 million metric tons of methane from its operations each year – nearly 60 percent more than current […]Read More