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Poem for 9/11: SOMETHING DIFFERENT
By Elkin Brown

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Tell me something different, Muse
about that mid-September morning --
something other than who was lost
and won't be coming home that evening.

I've had all that fed to me already;
I've sucked it all from the Big Glass Teat,
and now, gorged with detailed misery,
I'm ready for some detailed wisdom.

How did we (including they)
ever get to this impasse, was it
distant karma of Crusades
come back to bite us on the ass? or

just ever-shrinking global village
choking on constricted meanness?
Nothing new, I know that well, but
isn't there a place to breathe? to

not be salting wounds with doctrine?
not be ransoming blood with blood?
not be digging up sins of the fathers
even as we listen to the mothers cry?
I've always written to make some sense
of something far beyond my ken, so
tell me Muse -- you who wake me early
keep me up late, scratching mind
and soul for just a fleeting glimpse --
will a damned thing ever make sense again?