Voyager
Between discontent and desire,
I am willing to mix
my fortune with the wind—
ready for the ships
in all my books.
Poems on the topic: book
Poems on the topic “book” on Poets.by.
W-less
My books fit my mind,
a music beyond imagination.
But a thief stole a letter—
the last W—
to send to his son.
Bibliophile
I had an oyster busy as a rose,
a pleasant room bigger
than a broke-open safe:
a great large book.
Campaigner
going with the sun
into the street
I drink like a scholar
at the burial of a book
Books in the road
books in the dull road like a dish of tripe
a meal of ill conception
books for the clerk
who tells me ill things
for the surgeon at a loss
what to do with her own body
for the bears
Water water
water is a book
full of tautologies
weary to the ear
I wake in the night
on my waterbed
weary journal
Inquire within
a rogue as unquiet
as a rose
never a book read
in never a church
the mind I found
in my mind
Captive audience
reading to the hogs
as I have done
my books come to taste
of liberty
From the classifieds
Found: good view, in a book.
Found: no answer at all. Rope.
Found: a Ford (our own).
Found: great odds. A fine thing.
Economizing measures
I bring things to hunt,
meet others
in books
and tend a mind
printed in ink
to save money.
Abstract
An experiment:
hands talking,
we frighten the bear
back into a book.
The bills of mortality
appear to be full
of pure hunger.
Digest
I begin to digest my book
for clearer understanding—
a letter for light
a word for spirit
for being other and not
me at all.
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