day trade-off

The investor’s new lament:
“’Bye, low,” he’ll sigh.
The old rules
no longer apply.

talk is cheap

Let’s slap a ban
on that word
“bipartisan”—
it’s limp-wristed code for
“you get screwed.”

And as we’re in
the forbidding mood
eighty-six the tired, poor
“wall-street-main-street”
metaphor.

We’re all up the same
damned street don’t you see.
Here’s a deal: I leave policy to you,
You leave poetry to me.

The Greatest Depression

Fit yourself for a pickle barrel
and learn how to crack nuts with your laptop
bro; those surfing skills won't do you much
good in the New Economy.

It's Road Warrior time, can you dig
the kerosene? Bottled water my ass.
You'll be clawing open cactus
and puking up the juice.

Cushy retiree, a Wal-Mart greeter?
Hah you wish, pal. That's a plum job
we won't like to see again
when the shit comes down.

Learn Mandarin, your nervous joke?
It won't save you, Gweilo--
Even the Chinese don't bother with it anymore;
they're too busy counting the minutes.

the art of investing

Slice the bull market in half--
there's your golden calf--
and embalm it for show and sell.

Brokers on the ledge?
Put Damien Hirst in charge
of the hedge.

interest rate haiku

In a whisk of greed
whiter than the price of rice:
a scrambled nest egg.