SUMMONING THE PAGES
I love pulp I can see, feel;
pages to taste, chew and digest;
versuri made more real
by the musk of their smell
released in understated swells
as they age.
I dive head first into leaves
surrounding and filling me
with joy, sadness, information,
recording the souls of each generation.
They shelter me like protective eaves,
each waiting to provide.
Words become beatitudes
of discovery; others confide
melancholy meditation.
I still refuse to submit
to the new allure of reading a screen
designed by the demon Kindle,
preferring to listen to the crinkle
of paper as it flips,
falling flat against its ancestors.
Even cheap escapism
or the worst of creations
can fill a purpose,
have a message to tell.
In the end, the pages I’ve viewed
have all served me well.
(Part of Just a Little Cage of Bone, Southern Arizona Press)
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