You must remember
I have no sense of tactics
though I’m a militarist
when arranging my books.
I command this author
who has written on that subject
to reside in a certain space
on my shelf
so that in moments of loneliness
or when I become restless for knowledge
he will speak to me
even though he has been dead
for six centuries or more.
This is my way of life
when I’m not sleeping
or eating my daily endive salad
or taking my dog for a walk.
And when I return to my house
there are so many lamps to read by,
so many authors
imploring me with invisible arms
not to forget them
after so many sacrifices
and the discomforts
of so many garrets
because there is a danger of oblivion
once the silverfish
have acquired an appetite
for the pulp of linguistics
to say nothing
of those alarming statistics
on literacy
or modern man’s propensity
for the diminishing prospects
of his own survival
in which case
neither books
nor even thoughts dredged
from the silt of profundity itself
shall be necessary appendages.SO MANY

You must remember
I have no sense of tactics
though I’m a militarist
when arranging my books.
I command this author
who has written on that subject
to reside in a certain space
on my shelf
so that in moments of loneliness
or when I become restless for knowledge
he will speak to me
even though he has been dead
for six centuries or more.
This is my way of life
when I’m not sleeping
or eating my daily endive salad
or taking my dog for a walk.
And when I return to my house
there are so many lamps to read by,
so many authors
imploring me with invisible arms
not to forget them
after so many sacrifices
and the discomforts
of so many garrets
because there is a danger of oblivion
once the silverfish
have acquired an appetite
for the pulp of linguistics
to say nothing
of those alarming statistics
on literacy
or modern man’s propensity
for the diminishing prospects
of his own survival
in which case
neither books
nor even thoughts dredged
from the silt of profundity itself
shall be necessary appendages.SO MANY

You must remember
I have no sense of tactics
though I’m a militarist
when arranging my books.
I command this author
who has written on that subject
to reside in a certain space
on my shelf
so that in moments of loneliness
or when I become restless for knowledge
he will speak to me
even though he has been dead
for six centuries or more.
This is my way of life
when I’m not sleeping
or eating my daily endive salad
or taking my dog for a walk.
And when I return to my house
there are so many lamps to read by,
so many authors
imploring me with invisible arms
not to forget them
after so many sacrifices
and the discomforts
of so many garrets
because there is a danger of oblivion
once the silverfish
have acquired an appetite
for the pulp of linguistics
to say nothing
of those alarming statistics
on literacy
or modern man’s propensity
for the diminishing prospects
of his own survival
in which case
neither books
nor even thoughts dredged
from the silt of profundity itself
shall be necessary appendages.

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