What costs most in the world of things?
Not diamonds or gold. The answer is land,
the air above,
the water over,
and the lava beneath.
You can’t buy oceans yet
but somehow countries own them.
There is nowhere I can go
To sit down or sleep for free any time
of the day or night.
Where can I settle to be safe and penniless,
Assured that no one will bash me senseless,
Rob me of what little I possess,
Tell me to move on, you’re trespassing,
Or that’ll be ten bucks please,
No large bills accepted.
You don’t have to be mugged
these days to feel robbed.
Since when did people think
They could own a piece of the earth
and the air above it, too,
and the molten earthly core
and the oceans out to a specified
number of miles? The point is,
I don’t have a home or even a place
to lay claim to. I park
on borrowed space.
Having nothing, I think of money
not in terms of paper slips
but as watts of my focused energy
in exchange for what I need.
After I give up units of inner force
I must replenish my reservoirs
or I quickly become depleted.
How do I regenerate without tender
of the customary world?
Easily, if you are not proud.
Sleep endless hours.
Scrounge food scraps and furniture
from the refuse of the rich.
Listen to street-corner musicians.
Make up stories.
Love who is there.
Laugh till you cry.
Richard Branson, Inc.,
Let me know if you hear of any free space
on a planet with gravity.
Won’t you take me on your spaceship
to Mars as poet and muse?