After Eden

Once upon a time we lived in paradise.
We loved one another.
We cared for the earth and all life upon and within it.
We owned nothing yet experienced rich and fruitful lives.

My name is Adam ~ My name is Eve
This place tells our story...

Mother Earth

Look now upon my face,
My cold of winter ice and snow,
This priceless place known last to you,
As thaw and warm of world invade my sadly salted blue.

- Footnotes -


The World Without Money is an evolving publication that presents images and poetry within one of three contexts: when together, when alone, and with others. The top of this page presents a series of slides about my thoughts on the nature of money. This precedes the main body of words and images to provide a rational context to the more open and interpretative language of poetry.


The beauty of poetry is that it sits between meaning and experience. As the author of this publication I want to share my thoughts about the poetry and intent of The World Without Money. Like all art, poetry only comes alive within the person experiencing it. The words that stand without the reader's gaze are nought in shape and strength. Poetry is written to be heard ~ say a poem, even as a whisper, and you will come to know far more.


The words that follow as footnotes are but my single voice, my single view. Your view will be your own to own.


Mother Earth: As the earth warms, the extraordinary range of its life and beauty is at risk.