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]] and other 9/11 Works (Part 2: ]], pages 9-11)

September 23, 2011


A war starts, and the people are joined in many

directions and through time so that nothing can stop

the bombings.

Next time, stop to think about the living. What

if the killers were all holding hands?

I could sing of those people, those you’ve met,

and those you’ve never met, and will never meet.

It would console me, like wind being wind,

like no lives to return to, no lives to come back.


We know, we are fashioning a monument of

tears—Gettysburg. We are, we know—Vietnam—in

ruins. A monument to tears.

I still thirst for the tears of ashes. I wake up,

and sorrow still controls our minds.

My mind. Strangely lonesome as I close my

eyes to see everyone else’s pain: I don’t want this, I

should be one of the ash of them.

They race towards me, billowing, but I still

have to breathe, America.

I close my eyes and what should I say to them?

We know? We are? We suffer a great deal of misery



People started running, running back into the

world in heaven in the world in heaven.

There is new space here, the moon says.

I love my heart, I close my eyes, I don’t believe.

What should I believe?

I have lost the heart of my life in the thousands

that can kill any one of us.

Nothing to think, where we run from grace that

diamond in heaven.

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