Everything's circulation. Animals herd, people fail to hoard, and poets are a cockfaced opulent mix of colts and 49ers (I mean they are herding animals & they are rushing for gold). This is circulation: "in the same way as all movement that carries one/ in the direction of the natural is natural."
As Alli writes, -- "Hoes need nectar too." But I misread it as Hoes need Hector, too -- something heroic -- "a new moleskin" - or maybe I've totally misread it as "poets need Hector, too" (that's my projection, Dear Troy). All the while our bodies affections & cash collapse:
People win awards.There is cheese and wheat and erosfor the groupif you are lucky.
It reminds me of Dickinson's poetic economies:
I pay—in Satin Cash—
You did not state—your price—
A Petal, for a Paragraph
It near as I can guess—
When it comes to our poems, so much like money &eros we don't know what we have to debit. Remember Shelia E.?
She saw him standing in the section markedIf you have to ask you can't afford it lingerie
She threw him bread and said make me scream
In the dark what could he say
I designed the cover for this chapbook out of pictures of Russian revolutionary children I snapped from someone else's computer screen: "hold your jeweled kicks/ up to the pulsing gate/ and say cheese."