A book lies
open. I read the
lines that fill the page, the lines that line the whiteness of
page, that creep toward the number denoting a
a new page
I flip to find each page adorned
with a number
So many numbers I cannot
comprehend them all.
There would be
pages if only each line were a sensible length and if the line breaks made any form of sense but this
not the case.
2. The Marshalling of the Argument
There are things I shall not do, must not do, will reject
Let us cast them out, let us turn our backs, close our eyes, close
and inscribe their names in our list that all may see, that
3. The Naming of the List
How shall we understand?
The list of that which is
It shall be named thus:
101 Things I Refuse To Do Before I Die.
and everything within shall be that which we
4. The Naming of the Thing
What is it, this stuff, this book of broken lines, wherein are
the rhymes and the reasons? How shall we
know it to
include it? What is it, about it, concerning it that
we shall not do?
We shall turn our backs
Trying to understand blank verse.
There came one from the east
who cried Master, it is I,
your Editor. And I have reviewed your opus,
your outpourings, your cries are
heard and herein are they well represented.
Let this be an end to it for it is of sufficient length and surely,
by now you have
made your point. I shall put the
on and let us have peace.
6. The Closing of the Book
And at last a sentence was written on one line and did not have a false break anywhere within it and the Writer and the Editor looked on it and were content.