Day 58

10/12/2006

Money talks.
But it don’t sing and it don’t dance
And it don’t walk.

---Neil Diamond, Forever in Blue Jeans

Money doesn’t talk, it swears.

---Bob Dylan, It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)

Money, get back.
I’m all right, Jack 
Keep your hands off of my stack.

---Pink Floyd, Money

Currency à la blogosphere is more than
Up-to-datum limp, laconic legerdemain.
It is clicks and links fostering that attaboy attitude
Of who's to lose, and when that radar sweep will ping the golden bell.
Eyeballs and keyboards, circling in a demonic dance,
Halogens and alkalis, each giving what the other lacks.
But bucks be made on this "American Idol" custard-crust
"Bake it then scrape it" literary elimination match.
Books born of blogs, like political "pitch-a-point" pablum,
Is microwaved (not slow-cooked) and vaulted high into
That heady sty that is the wallow-wumper's fenced back yard.
Ducat-blessed, hath thou been so blind-stung?

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