A White House

A luminous presence hovers
in the bright sunlight
Where are all the people gone?
I agitate in silence
over the absence of all content.
The house stands like an answer I do not want to read.
I am enslaved to the memories of the houses;
houses that stand in a shadow perpetually,
or those which stand in the light eternally
defying shadows, forbidding entry
to life in its ceaseless traffic.
The white house stands alone in shadows,
a strange kind of peace
of someone whose understanding of Time
has blurred the line between here and now.

The white house stands alone in shadows,
a strange kind of peace
of someone whose understanding of Time
has blurred the line between here and now.

The white house