Between Shelves
The air here is thick with the weight of almosts.
Books lean toward one another,
spines whispering the titles they wish they’d been given.
On the floor, a stack of drafts waits without complaint.
Some are missing their middles,
others their endings,
but all of them know the sound of a reader’s breath
when they’ve found the sentence worth keeping.
I walk the aisle slowly,
palming the dust as if it were a kind of currency.
Paying my way deeper into the silence.
.
This transported me back to
This transported me back to my college's library in Autumn 1976. When a poem functions as a time machine, as this one does, that is proof of enormous verbal skill and poetic artistry.
Starward-Led [in Chrismation, Januarius]
Thanks Starward-Led. I spent
Thanks Starward-Led. I spent quite a bit of time in the school library once I realised there were more books there than in our home library. Glad that this has stirred up some hopefully good memories
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver