Millie, the librarian, has decided that the library’s newest eternal employee will probably have to do some writing, apart from cleaning the restrooms. Part 1 is here.
Before we ravel the tangles of your
thoughtlessness, I’ll be giving you
the benefit of my interleaved experience.
I may speak in bold occasionally.
about yours truly
I’ve adopted arrogance,
its only limit, epsilon.
I began instructing in my childhood.
My toys were most obedient,
the cat, the least.
They make you leave, move on, move off.
They show you there’s no ground at sea.
It’s best to pack a lunch.
interlibrary loan requests
All must be ignored:
the stranger who requests the egg in white,
neither book nor egg nor white;
the others who would borrow you.
To each their own or someone else’s.
The zero Dewey Decimal
may theorize on zombie androids,
and yet no class is fixed—
fiction moves to factors,
they become forgotten dreams.
Avoid the aisles of negative call numbers,
where once I wandered in my youth.
All you read is taken from your life,
a white out in a blizzard.
I cannot tell you what I’ve lost.
infernal logic and dreams inverted
Hell must burn or freeze
to the end of all things finite.
If not, in a moment of transition,
the weather would be tempered,
tropical, almost bearable.
Rubbish blows across my lawn.
I play the piano, there is no sound.
A vagrant with a bottle offers me a sip.
And please accept this wilted cabbage leaf
or part thereof, he says, it was given me
by an offshoot of humanity frozen in a glacier.
I’ve staged my life in Noh, in copacetic lies,
and now a single glow in the chandelier remains.
While it burns, I’ll never speak without a mask.
Wondering about his missing ping-pong balls,
preparing answers to imaginary questions,
hearing nothing but the whispers
of garment-hungry moths,
the employee nodded.
artwork obedience school (part above)