I read twenty to thirty books at a time,
piecemeal, like short visits
to important people
I wouldn’t want to bother
with my insignificance.
These days I’m stricken
with attention deficit disorder
beneath which flows
a stream of consciousness
confluenced to a sure mystery.
That’s where I
have come to rest at this age.
Stars find me whole, what I
myself could never see.
The great ones of great books
offer me glimpses of others
standing, gazing
into the same night sky.
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Sigh. I relate. Getting excited for your book?
O yes. It went to print 2 days ago and I should be holding one in my hands in about 2 weeks. It releases on September 6. I’m looking forward to this.
What a feat. And a thrill! Can’t imagine
Exactly how I feel, Ive been reading Montaigne and its been like staring through his eyes at another time, but very much like being myself but extended, and i get feeling about the mystery of which you speak, actually the closer i get to death the more the urging and thought.