Thursday, December 16, 2010

PhoPoetry for the Recession

Going, going,  gone.















     A home left alone and empty, like a person abandoned, soon falls into disrepair. 
     With both, there are forces at work, forces that
     --unmitigated by the presence of someone to love--
    will have their way.
    Without heat or warmth,
    without scrubbing or caressing,
    without attention paid or windows cleaned,
    with no purpose left, 
    they fall to pieces.
    Gone. Gone. gone. 
 


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