post-9/11

it’s hard enough
to live
mindful
of personal decay
and eventual death
in this academic
stress culture
bubble
without
having
to worry about
awakening
to the agony
of sarin
smallpox
cyanide
or anthrax
in the air
or water,
walking down the street
waking up
is horrifyingly
unknowable
and uncontrollable
enough,
i fear that
i have not
the wherewithal
to do
mentally straining
school work
and still
keep the
mental knots
of self
untied enough
to handle
sudden death.

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i’ll sit here and write nothing…

i’ll sit here
and write nothing
for the millionth time
again,
no category
to fill,
no silence
my refuge
oh sweetness
with no loving words
to speak
i still ask questions
and live without knowing
of knowing anything,
one more
lucidly insane day,
one more
dream,
fulfillment is elsewhere
nowhere to speak of–
shocked
around a corner
all my apprehension
flying back,
so hot
so knotted
obscuring
clear thinking
if that can be
called thinking at all,
look away
keep walking
out of sight
fall to lean
eyes closed
around
a single
wall’s turn,
i almost want you
to come
and find me
but am too terrified
to think on it
for more
than a moment…
oh just relax
it’ll be ok,
the awkwardness
and fear
makes both worse…
probably,
“the waiting
is the hardest part” (tom petty).