Tagged: reading

between the lines, there

the language of time

the language of time
is mysterious – for one
full minute, we can

become riveted by every
bird twitch, a turning of the page
.
20210904:1848
y

there are pages

there are pages
that beg to be
turned, stories that
press too
tightly against
each other,
sticking to our
impatient fingers
.
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y

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: stories

the shelves of mondays

the shelves of mondays
are often revisited,
the pages dog-eared,

and here and there, in the margins,
someone dares to ask for more
.
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y

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: margins

these days, we cannot

these days, we cannot
believe how unceasingly
behind we are, books

stacked knee-high, reports stuck to
other reports, paperweights
.
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y

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: paperweights

in two-hundred-and-

in two-hundred-and-
eight universes, our paths will
cross on the seventh

floor, fingers idly bookmarking
pages, waiting for a subplot
.
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y

** in the absence of The Daily Post from WordPress, here’s your daily prompt: idly

now and then, i am

now and then, i am
on the train, watching you read
a book i know is

so good because i’ve already
read it, filling me with envy
.
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y

things change

things change.
i do and i don’t i hear
you say.

things change.
twenty years later, you
are eighty weeks and two
days dead.

things change.
i am reading
the days run away
like wild horses over the
hills
, and they haven’t
.
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y

reading kawabata before

for seven stops on

for seven stops on
the L-train this morning, we
read our books, sneaking

in the tiniest expressions
just for each other to translate
.
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y