Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Poem #192 of 365

The bulldozers encroach my street,
we are surrounded at every turn.

Nothing is permanent here,
that is something I need to learn.

Yesterday I enjoyed Ramiro's public art,
but today it's debris carried off in a cart.

The machines are here and breaking up things,
and this is most painful for he who clings.

There is no ceremony when the ravaging starts,
no one to light candles or put hats over hearts.

We merely sleep through the change that takes place,
and curse the developers who destroy and erase.

But--the collective community has a voice in this city,
if we neglect to use it, for that I'll have no pity.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

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