At the last reading I went to, I shared the stage with an old poetry colleague of mine, from many years ago: Stan Crawford. He and I had been published in the same anthology, Untameable City (Mutabilis Press), about the nature, interpreted broadly, of Houston. This reading was to celebrate the book and some of the poets who’d been included in it.
Stan and I had taken workshops together back in the day, and it was so good to run into him again, as it always is. He graciously agreed to let me include his poem “Hedge Fund” here on the blog this April.
Make a bet about any arbitrary thing:
for example, when a line of bushes
will at some future time enclose a field, or
a pasture, or any predicted area of vivid
growth. Then hedge the bet you’ve made
upon that hedge, to the amazement of those
who hadn’t quite understood that this is now
a world securitized, protected, bet by bet,
increment by increment. Sell this knowledge.
Reap the standard fee of “2 and 20.” Hedge
again. Buy gold, buy oil, buy lithium, buy
homes designed by different architects
on opposite coasts of several continents. Buy
influence, when control is not for sale. Expand
and merge. One day you’ll be too big to fail,
and what is more, you’ll be a man, my son.