Hymn To Wealth - Manuscript and Typed Copy 1977

Hymn To Wealth


0h wealth can you be hymned in 
I have none –  no wealth, no hymn. 
No him no her, wealth interred.
   Give me pocket samples of your P bombs 
    oh wealthy oil-destruction magnates. 
    Isnt the P Bomb succeeding the Cobalt.
All the combined black bags of
         millionaire astronauts 
         & nautical scientists 
         oil drudgers & 
         uranium poly-glots 
         All the combined excreta of Amer-Eurasian multiblllionaires
         in one black bag 
         descends over our heads 
         drops down on all the ministers of the Lord
         asking for wealthy tithing, 
Oh excreta of the myth monsters 
robbing us of our dreams. 
We poor people ask 
for our considered decency again 
Christian money-makers' outhouse the church of their dreams.

I sing the hymn to wealth —
I love you for the art work you gave to museums. 
I love you for museums.
But I sing no hymn to you for the personal deprivation 
Of my daily life.
And I refuse you my dead body over which you will descend 
like vultures of critics, English & art departments 
over the dead carcases of poets & artists.

Hymn to no hymn. Merry Christless Christmas 
Hymn to no wealth. We 
are happy here on earth with our sprouts & poverty
as well as we can be.
Hymn to ourselves alive in the struggle of loving, without jet trips or 
flights to the Moon     or Mars     or Mataztlan.

Hymn to the center of the dollar, the hole. 
All holes are holy 
& see clear light.

larry goodell / placitas, new mexico / 15Dec77 
from Sun In The Mountain, poems 1977.

Hymn To Wealth, 1st writing on 3 by 5 card and napkin, then typed poem with sketch for performance . . . 15 Dec 1977 . . . forgot to do it at performance with Coyote Dance Collective in Santa Fe's Center for Performing Arts so the hanging stuffed garbage bag "headdress" simply hung there on stage, unused . . . (just a memory). The 1st writing almost always takes precedence in my way of working, so I'll probably revert "Mataztlan" to "Juarez."

My dad came over from the N.M. State Legislature to hear my reading, probably the only time he ever heard me do my poetry. His comment was, "You certainly gave the establishment hell!" Love to all, Larry Goodell / Placitas, New Mexico