For the next week, this blog is covering Melbourne's Overload Poetry Festival. But ordinarily this is a personal political poetry blog, I couldn't let the anniversary of September 11 go by without posting a poem for my regular Slam Up readers. Overload coverage will resume this evening with reviews of our first three events.
i remember where i was
tell me
where were you
no window dressing
& however mundane
it might seem
no poetics needed
i only want the truth
my flatmate
that year
wz an engineer
obsessed with gaming
it wz 8.30
in the am
& already
the guy wz lounged out
playing WWIII
this a good day for you?
i said is there
not enough violence
in the world already
so you get up
& straight away
simulate it?
where were you
where were you
the day you -
did you hear?
new york
wz hit!
console dead in hand
eyes widening
pale gamer face
drained even whiter
he said
shit / it is like
one of those war games
only not
cz it is real life
& i’m thinking
don’t you ever have class
& how the fuck much
did you drink last night
i still remember
i still remember
where i was
& the looping number
of that one united flight
we sat together
over soggy weetbix
& best before gone lite white
we sat together
war gamer
& poet
in the heat
& the dust
& the blood
& the ash
where were you
as new york
fought
for life
& my not-so-secret plan for world literary domination
this is stunning in its irony and mundane-ness...i was flying that day...
ReplyDeleteI was at a gig in Prahran that night. Someone came rushing into the front bar at Revolver telling us Korean fighter Jets were attacking the US. Got home and found my housemate glued in fascinated horror to the TV where I sat for the next six hours or so. Knowing things were going to get worse in the world.
ReplyDeleteThis poem captures something very truthful about how close the whole thing seemed.