Ode to books

Should it be called a sin? Be calling it imperative. Past tense was yelling in supremacy Shall it be more than beauty? I shall not write in history Nor should you make it in. For grater men are often told: “He was a man of character!” I am not here to give advice, Though I am content with this As my ashes give way to wind I mourn my found minute. As I may live through this As you might scale, Weightless words And sickening lords. Actors of life Painters of pain Know not what I have done Masters of the world. Empty siluets wonder day & night. Widower and bride to be; I have no perception Wherein foreign or artist. I don’t want twenty hundred deeds of good. I am but I, myself Have I to wash my sins?! I would be left with I, Boringly confused. 30 septembrie 2008