Ca$h Money


My girl spent the day bargain hunting
in a haunted house, so I hanged
my sweaty scrimshaw print
cashmere socks to dry. Fermented
properly, like politicians
abandoned by their elitist allies.

Fill a copper cauldron
with Bitcoins and melt them
down so I can drip digital
ooze into the a-hole eyes
of my numbered nemeses.

Their tone-deaf screams
remind me of the familiar
tomes handed out
for free, you had enough
of me?

Like ranch, I dip
and emerge whitewashed
in the annals of antiquity’s
erstwhile errata, medieval
penis-trees penned
in the margins, vellum
villains scrawled vigorously
as if all it takes to be remembered is a dull knife
and a sharp pen.

BIO: Nolan Allan is a writer from North Carolina and you can follow him here @nolanallan.

buy twitter followers