Jan 152014

by K.G.Newman


This tiny Tularosa library is a speck

in the literary universe

(and this kind of assertion is one the haggard,

thin-gray-haired, phlegm-humming

Shakespeare-reading librarian loathes).

I am not a philosopher, even on weed.

I am not daydreaming

as I reach and stealthily slip

my own work of poems onto a shelf.

Everything is now exactly as it has been:

the librarian grossing out

every bibliophile child,

myself a speck of a speck

in this library circling

at a great speed

through the shifting universe.