<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=352626" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In the Loop</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I heard from people after the shootings. People<br>I knew well or barely or not at all. Largely<br>the same message: how horrible it was, how little<br>there was to say about how horrible it was.<br>People wrote, called, mostly e-mailed<br>because they know I teach at Virginia Tech,<br>to say, there’s nothing to say. Eventually<br>I answered these messages: there’s nothing<br>to say back except of course there’s nothing<br>to say, thank you for your willingness<br>to say it. Because this was about nothing.<br>A boy who felt that he was nothing,<br>who erased and entered that erasure, and guns<br>that are good for nothing, and talk of guns<br>that is good for nothing, and spring<br>that is good for flowers, and Jesus for some,<br>and scotch for others, and “and” for me<br>in this poem, “and” that is good<br>for sewing the minutes together, which otherwise<br>go about going away, bereft of us and us<br>of them. Like a scarf left on a train and nothing<br>like a scarf left on a train. As if the train,<br>empty of everything but a scarf, still opens<br>its doors at every stop, because this<br>is what a train does, this is what a man does<br>with his hand on a lever, because otherwise,<br>why the lever, why the hand, and then it was over,<br>and then it had just begun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Bob+Hicok">Bob Hicok</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=352626" data-title="In the Loop de Bob Hicok" data-description="I heard from people after the shootings. People I knew well or barely or not at all. Largely the same message: how horrible it was, how little there was to say about how horrible it was. People wrote, called, mostly e-mailed because they know I te..."></div> </div> </div>

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