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Wicked Wednesday. Fortunately, it is the last Wicked Wednesday before break. Today was not particularly wicked, but my dear friend Jesus Q likes it when I call it that. Got my grades done ahead of time. Yea me! I did not procrastinate this block! Woot woot.

I gotta say, though, the world has me bummin’. The news from Pakistan, the torture report, the news of handgun accidents involving children, the inexplicable evil in the world, it’s got me feeling the feels. Overwhelmed. I’m going to try to poem it and go to bed. Do I write that every Wednesday? Feels like I do.


The Calculus of Guilt

Empathy can only get us so far, here in our seats of relative peace. It is hard to imagine the cult of belief that would lead to the slaughter of babes and their teachers, hard to understand the calculus of evil in the world, that always seems double, or triple the shining moments. The question is always of hope. Is it worth it?

There’s something bougie about feeling overwhelmed by evil, surrounded by all this peace and running water. The guilt of privilege is sleepy cult, can’t teach in circles around this monied security, can’t without the graphics they would never see if it was our own massacre, can’t learn ’em a damn thing without toppling these castle bricks of safe, safe, safety.

Justify the job like, if these cash-holes learn feelings, and if the lesser-off learn honesty, then the job is done. The ones with means can learn the lessons, if the teacher is just and fair, can learn the lesson of a deficit of attention, can learn the whole tired world, ff there is anything left of the teacher to give.

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Because I don’t know Calculus, no actual poems were injured in the conjuring of this poem. Happy Wicked Wednesday, poemies.

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