How To Make Art Pay? Poem by Saul McCandless

How to make art pay?
No real way, I say!

Like University of Life jokes
Dirty spoons and spoke

I am rich though from internal conquests
W/ guests invited to invisible banquets

We dine on the finest of songs
A muse machine, drunken lyric spirit

Poorly Benjamin's and sickly sounds
Gaggles and gaffs abound unholy ground

To one and / or a thousand hands
I am worm in the filthiest of sands

And I'll create or simply destroy
After all, all Gods children must have toys.