Economics & The Bluster of Fools
I wing to the sky with the swallow
dance the cross wind, urge music
to descend to the master as he sips his tea.
Oh, the clouds are jealous, and the sunlight gay
when I soar about in sweet mayhem.
I crush through the earth with the worm
wriggle the thin swatch of clay, crown hell
with my shit and honor the sole of the master
Oh, the shrew are jealous, and the bedrock gay
when I push through the sour serenity
I dream in the middle with the free men
think & dance & wriggle across a modicum of street, pray politics
as the master tames the steeping God of Green.