Oxford

“poetry is a lethal weapon”

go read it: ground zero, david lerner.

I just want a moment of truth
so vast

that all the lights on the planet
dim for a second…

we’re right at ground zero
the times are suffused with murder
perfect with disbelief

There are so many feelings I want to articulate I feel caged in by their brimming expectations. Last night I walked D (halfway) to the bus station, drawing an end to what felt like a five-day display of homemade fireworks: that moment it explodes and the air around you melts into a exhilarating dream and it leaves your cheeks with a terrifying caress of scorch marks. Or I imagine, at least. The return to college was introspective, the night respectfully muted around my burgeoning thoughts. I kept searching for familiar landmarks, but memory is a poignantly outdated map, and revisiting only seems to lead down false paths. It is always jarring when my impressions and reality collide.

It bemuses me that the sixth week of my first term is coming to a close. Microeconomics is slowly, tantalizingly, rearranging itself into comprehension in my mind, and in any case, I anticipate (i.e. hope fervently for) a lengthy and uninterrupted burst of productivity over my vacations.

Here is a poem about democracy:

You can feel it now: why people become Republicans: Get that dog
off the street. Remove that spit and graffiti. Arrest those people huddled
on the steps of the church. If it weren’t for them you could believe in god,

in freedom

I am unable to post anything more eloquent.

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