A New Word

Dear Eugene,

But in a morning such as this
Is neither life nor death to see,
Only that state which some call bliss,
Grey hopeless immortality.

What is there to speak about in a morning such as this, when, as it always is, the victim is also the victimizer, the oppressed the oppressor, when with god and god's people on his side one boasted about the size of his nuclear button, when one plunge of a bus took with it four dozen made in God's image, when killing happened at your backyard?

What word would suffice to speak about anything in a morning such as this?

Well, I wrote a lot to you since Dec 28.  But I scrapped them all.  Too wordy.  Too many words but not nearly enough.  I need to find a new way to speak in this new year.


David speaks in poetry.

Yours, Alex

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