I have not written about the Newtown massacre because there is nothing to say. Safety, gun laws, mental health services--blahdy blahdy blah. Whatever. There are no "issues" here, only mute, gaping grief.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Yeats wrote that "the centre cannot hold;/ Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,/ The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere/ The ceremony of innocence is drowned."