Cliché
the beggars you have always with you
like bad paintings of sunsets
roses of a mindless lover
the beggars know how to droop
on their canes like stems
faded blood-droplet heads
who could deny them water
a clown weeps outside the hotel
no room for those painted
eyes on velvet
like dice rolling white across the green dealer's table
every gamble is a bridge
you could burn across into exile
money is the root
of the tooth and the gold cap
smiling like a bishop
the shining bite of your benevolence
you forget to listen to what you know
or maybe scorn
all that rosy plaster of angels and asses
too many hands and why not
help and become clean
as a picked pocket
a bone even the dog won't bow to
meanwhile the beggars lift gold
out of the air like a sudden lighting of matches
what you don't give will be taken
possession
burns as easily in any pocket
the beggars you have always with you
like bad paintings of sunsets
roses of a mindless lover
the beggars know how to droop
on their canes like stems
faded blood-droplet heads
who could deny them water
a clown weeps outside the hotel
no room for those painted
eyes on velvet
like dice rolling white across the green dealer's table
every gamble is a bridge
you could burn across into exile
money is the root
of the tooth and the gold cap
smiling like a bishop
the shining bite of your benevolence
you forget to listen to what you know
or maybe scorn
all that rosy plaster of angels and asses
too many hands and why not
help and become clean
as a picked pocket
a bone even the dog won't bow to
meanwhile the beggars lift gold
out of the air like a sudden lighting of matches
what you don't give will be taken
possession
burns as easily in any pocket