Reading

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.