I’m not going to include my poems in DIR as a usual thing. And if this poem is ever published it will not be as is. I present it here merely for its sweet bookishness.
“Lust for Books”
I find when I am bound in by books
wealth surmounts the walls,
much money surrounds me as if I kneel in the vault of a national bank.
Just the sight of short paperbacks sets me shivering
and the thickest volume rests quietly in my lap like a snoozing cat.
I flip pages – a miser counting bills – eyes alight.
A greedy satisfaction comes from information.
I lust for paragraphs in periodicals, words in verse,
and I run my fingertips along the walls of books,
lick my lips and ponder which I’ll pick,
in which opened tome I’ll discover
the whispered words of another unseen lover.
-- GI 1/24/85