Tuesday, July 2, 2019

Time hum at the library

hum of fan and conditioned air bounding
into this empty library full
of bound knowledge, theories, stories
catalogued
cross referenced
spine stamped with numbers.

What shelf would I fit on in this system? What books would be my neighbors? Who my Dewey Decimal lovers cover to cover?

A human is too complex to fit in a tidy category.
The system would have to first
dissect me before it
bound me
catalogued me
cross referenced me
stamped my shattered spine with numbers.

Outside the glass,
leaves wave to me in the undulating breeze.

We are all afloat
in a sea of time.

Although some say time is running out.



About this poem

This poem is part of my poem-a-day cycle I'm writing for the solar solstice year 2019-2020.

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