The book.
A repository of words,
reflections,
reduced with time
to torn and mangled dog-eared pages.
Ideas, words, thoughts
on the verge of disintegrating.
Set in print
Before it is too late.
What we had once thought
ineffaceable
gives way
to that fugacious
vocal surrogate,
no sooner said
than gone.
Before it is too late.
It is the book
and its countless pasts,
virtual and real,
torn to pieces by the stress of modern culture.
Dionysus, Actaeon, Osiris.
Dusty plains, high mountains, even deeper seas,
emperors and philosophers
proclaiming their beliefs.
Before it is too late.
What remains
is the book itself,
the many hands that held it.
The times it was mislaid,
the sigh of relief when found.
An open book, its cover facing us,
held together by duct tape
to keep the contents
from mysteriously escaping
before they vanish with the spoken word.
Before it is too late.
Erika Bizzarri 
❤️
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I’ve listened and relistened to your reading of this, Erica. Some kind of thought stirs in my own mind and I decided I might venture a few lines in response, perhaps in conversation (hope you don’t mind) …
Before it is too late:
Ideas, images, memories
Start to form and waver.
Lighting the lamps
We bring out pen and book and open to a blank page
Then, pausing, gaze at the dusk outside,
Put down the pen
And go in search of a glass of wine
Or reach to the radio or tv.
We should be writing, reaching for words,
as you are teaching us to do,
Before it is too late.
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How wonderful. Nothing better than a conversation. I too am reaching for words. Actually right now I’m angling, reaching for thoughts, that sometimes seem to hover out of reach.
thank you John.
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Cara, mi ha fatto un gran piacere leggere queste righi.
Scriverò piu presto. Csaba
B
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Erika
<
div>I love this post about books. As I did your post about loneliness. It’s almost like you’ve been thinking wh
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Books are such friends, and traverse generations and owners. Made me reflect on my favorite books (friends) of all time….thank you
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