eating poetry

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.

The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.

Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs bum like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.

I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

~ by Mark Strand
from Selected Poems


J Cosmo Newbery said...

I'm not sure I get what's going on here. But that is a quite common state of affairs for me.

red dirt girl said...

Having ink spilling from the corners of your mouth or barking and licking librarians' hands ???