I read

read everything that passed these eyes

back of cereal packets

anything lying around got seen

& books out of the library dozen a day

drove the librarian crazy you haven’t read these

& I could get her to choose a page

tell her the ideas on show there shut her up

devoured the great fictions of the day & past

until I get to a place could see the forming plot

see what they were wanting to say

who they were behind the words

what the writing was really all about

who they why they were writing for

& that drew the curtains on that guy

with a very few exceptions but now they are dead

I’d go looking for another genre to hit the spot

on & on consuming every drop of word

I find it hard to find anything now

can help me make it to the very end

these people writing about those well spoken others

I can’t ever care about their well fed lives

nobody much writes on the poor

no one cares much any more about the workers

the livers from day to day living on bare boards

post modern literature has swept all of that away

we’re to be strivers go getters in novels

on the screens pushed in everything we do

& the Be is gone

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