Broke is Deadly

A liquid music froths up from my bubble bath

and I tell Industry to get out

and Perseverance to get in next.

These old gods are filthy.


I broke all the strings on my father’s guitar

and now I sell them separately.

Broken is beautiful.

Broke is deadly.


On the river my father sleeps in his kayak,

dreams of work.

Always he works.


The First Time I Made Money

My breasts awoke in my chest.

My skin felt the need for speed.

I could hear my coffin creaking open

at the far end of my life


I entered the economy of power,


built my heavy house