Overnight loan only

poetry

If i got locked in the library
overnight
i don’t think I’d try to get
as much reading in as possible.

I wouldn’t attempt to erase the
fines I’ve accumulated and i
certainly wouldn’t exploit the
opportunity to do some photocopying.

I’d find that one elusive book
the one that is always on loan
and hide it safely away under a
big, lofty oil painting on the fifth floor.

reflections on childrens books 1

poetry

i know an old puppy who swallowed a guy
i dont know why he swallowed a guy
perhaps the humane society will come
and take him away and put him to sleep
through some sadly not altogether very
humane means such as a shot through
the leg that they claim is pain free but really
just paralyzes the puppy before the pain
sets in and causes early rigor mortis
but thats just a thought i dont know much
about what happens to old puppies who
swallow folks

cusp

poetry

pride fills my lungs (not air)
as i descend these steps (no elevator)
holding stacks of books (no backpack)
at arms length
at waist height
thinking how much i’ll learn (i know so little)
if i can plow through these (likely I wont)
line after line (not page by page)
of language i dont understand (its all tahitian to me)
as i write
as i read
lacking comprehension
eternally standing on the cusp of brilliance

never jumping