With Blue Uncertain Stumbling
Buzz
September 11, 2011

The heavens roared with feckless, supersonic angels: F15’s, I guess.
M. insisted that P. and I “do” something, so we pushed south
to St. Vincent’s through the stupefied throng.  Frosted
with ash, a zombie tottered past.  And then it was there interposed

a fly.  They didn’t need us (no injured arriving; gay men
not authorized to give blood).  Heroic fantasies quashed, we spilled
out onto the street, dazed and blinking in the sunshine
that still refused to believe anything had happened. We drifted

into Cafeteria for lunch and ordered vodkas, straight up.
And then the windows failed… Wolfing down a BLT, I gagged
on the clockwork of my own jaw.  Outside, the crowds looked…
like ants scurrying around a violated hive.  More sirens.  And then

I could not see to see. Washington had been attacked, too, someone
mumbled.  Through my tumbler, I watched the world wobble and slosh.

*Click on the audio icon below to hear Malcolm Farley read his poem “With Blue Uncertain Stumbling Buzz”

Click here to read, “Everything Is Normal Now,” another poem about 9/11 by Malcolm Farley.