 To some degree every book is a ghost in which the soul of the author seeks a new host The words on each page are designed to engage & haunt those who pay homage to any linguistic grave Too often the smell of death hangs around old parchment as cellulose flakes & molecular bonds decay As countless mites scamper under fluorescent lights chewing on texts with microscopic bites the best of authors are digested over time Perhaps insects understand perfectly how to read: wandering freely & devouring what they please They're unafraid to scamper across any shelf or ignore places that seem unattractive to delve |
Hear the author read this poem.