POEM: Dead Precedents

Can we let go of the stale, moribund notion that money will give us security and somehow not come between us and our humanity.

Dead Precedents

He could not handle change
So he only dealt with folding
Money
And that kind
Which
No one can touch

This entry was posted in Poems, Political and Philosophical Musings and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply