Poetry About Capitalism

Numbers brighten across the trading screen. A warehouse clock begins another shift. Profit travels faster than the tired hand. A package arrives without its labor story. The market calls desire an endless engine. Outside the graph, every cost belongs to someone.

Look past the first familiar name. A warehouse clock begins another shift. The smallest detail changes the scale. A package arrives without its labor story. What seemed simple gathers another meaning. Outside the graph, every cost belongs to someone.

Numbers brighten across the trading screen. Time moves, but the image does not leave. Profit travels faster than the tired hand. It returns us to markets, labor, ownership, profit, consumption, inequality, invention, and the people behind every price. The market calls desire an endless engine. The day continues with a more attentive heart.