OLD MONEY


why am i alive
shifting wealth underground to sky
how rich is my skin or my brain or my teeth
my thinking
is just another part of the soil
feel the rock grow inside my kidney lust
dark circles on hip & my raccooned mask
why am i not a mountain
w/ icy streams mazed down my face
bring fire & i am a pleasant farmer
friend to talk the leaves off
drove straight into the painted tunnel
flattened my face
it is strange that i adore you