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The Poet's Economy

The demand graph is falling down
falling down, falling down.
The demand graph is falling down
like neighbours and politics
and scraps in a bin.

The market has failed
to deliver the goods,
butter in bread,
the American homosexuals
into Iraq and Afghanistan.

I sit gravely at my desk,
assessing the economy of words,
suffering from the outstanding costs
of realising what needs to be.

The senses shut down
like the retailer down the street.

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