anna and i became bone marrow donors on saturday. there was a drive in the name of a baby, trevor kott, 5-months old who desperately needs a marrow transplant, and soon, very fucking soon.

so we paid the fees, swabbed our cheeks and are now in a registry until the age of 61.

today my friend p. at lunch asked me if i heard about the shootings at virginia tech. no, i said. p.'s nephew is an engineering major. the nephew is okay, but according to p. 2 of his nephew's friends are not. they were killed by the gunman.

sucker punched. had no idea. and but so at lunch we wondered if there are more nuts in the u.s. or maybe the nuts just have easy access to a lot of guns. it would seem the latter is the answer. but i don't know. at all.

i hate guns. i was born a pacifist. i'll die a pacifist.

i've been reading again the poems of nyc school poet jim brodey. brodey died in the early '90s from complications of aids. for a while when he was strung out on drugs brodey was homeless. was gonna quote a few poems but i'll end this rant with a section taken from the last poem printed in his collected heart of the breath [hard press; 1996] 'there and back'. doesn't quite fit the tone of this post but i like it a lot. and it gives you a taste of the wild, lovely poems by a poet who died too soon.

9. up for grabs

Poetry is my life-job
God in his infinite wisdom
made me a writer
then sent me forth
whatta great guy