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2003-05-06 - 12:36 a.m. -



ok, let�s skip everything i was going to write about tonight & just cut to the part where i drop the bullshit & say what is on my mind right now.

here is the score�
i�m broke. now, this does not really bother me too much. there are times i wish i had a few extra bucks so i could get a larger place or take a trip or buy my loved ones something nice or even just get the fucking car fixed when it needs it, but, for the most part, i could give two shits about money. people put way too much importance on it. people worry about it too much. in the big picture, the one with the most money at the end still dies. so it is just something i try not to get too worked up about.

the trouble is, i can�t avoid it.
everyone wants his or her money. the landlord needs his rent, the gas company wants money for the heat, my son needs food & clothing & health insurance & Blue�s Clues toothpaste. there are a busload of bill collectors calling at all hours looking for their cut, there are friends who i owe money to from 5 years ago, there are taxes & fees & 100 other expenses that keep cropping up at the worst times.

the trouble is i have a great career in things that don�t earn me shit.

for starters, i�m a conservator. it sounds real nice on paper. i work with priceless artifacts, making sure that they will last long enough for my son�s grandkids to see them. i take objects that were made 3,000 years ago & treat them with all the love & passion i can. i am preserving history� it is something that i take very seriously. there are very few people in the world who can do what i do.

i make less per hour than the night manager at Burger King.

would you like fries with that 16th century armor? would you like to super size that roman helmet?

now, i could fall back on my other career� but my other career is being an artist. yeah, us poets & painters rake in all the bucks.

Q: how did the poet make a million dollars?
A: he started with two million.

between what i�ve made on book sales, workshop payments, payments for doing features, balanced against printing costs, travel costs, not to mention all the money spent fielding a slam team the first few years cost me, i figure poetry has put me in the hole to the tune of about $15,000 dollars.

i won�t even get started on the painting.

so, where is all of this leading? what is the big conclusion to this little tirade? well, let me tell you a short story�

yesterday afternoon i took my son outside to play. we walked into the backyard, heading to the sand pile when he stopped dead in his tracks. his eyes got very wide, his mouth hung open, a smile came across his face & he shouted out�

dandelions!!
the dandelions are back!!
dad, look!!

& he went running into the yard full of joy because the dandelions had come up.

how many people do we know who dread the appearance of dandelions in their yard? how many people think of them as weeds, think of them as something to be gotten rid of? how many people think they are ugly or worthless?

how many people think of artists the same way?

when the world gets to be too much to handle, when the pressure to grow up & start acting like a responsible adult starts to wear me down, when the money & the bills & the lost chances & the screw-ups overwhelm me i will stop & think of the look in his eyes.

there is no amount of money in the world that could buy that joy. no payment that could buy a smile like that.

i am never going to have a lot of money. i will most likely never have the big house or the fancy car or the designer clothing or any of the other things money can buy. i may always be scraping to get by & cover the expenses.

but don�t you ever tell me i�m poor.

if you told me i would never make another dime off of poetry, i would still write. if you told me i would never sell another painting, i would still paint. if you told me that dandelions were weeds, i would show you the look in my son�s eyes & tell you that i�m richer than bill gates.

my son may never know what it is like to grow up with money, but he will know what it is like to grow up in a house where dandelions are welcomed as miracles of spring & joy comes at the most unexpected times.

there, that is what is on my mind right now.
i�ll sit down now.

thanks for listening.
be well.