01 Mar

 Libraries are easily darkened 

portals of bright light 

bookending bad days.  

But people love to survive 

and enlightenment gathers  

light in the aisles— 

finely crafted formulas 

the only approaches to governance 

books of screws 

surgical procedures 

heirloom recipes 

chaotic trends 

countless trademarks 

delicate fabrications 

unending numbers 

missing works of tremendous art 

and histories of the uncreated 

with a cup of coffee to enhance 

so many things have come before!  

Then outside 

a fire alarms the angry streets 

and soon the doors are broken  

leaving nasty kids   

to piss upon the scrolls.   

The elders die. 

The king wants to put up some luxury condos 

and the censors locate   

for the purists to redact.  

Defund. Pillage. Tsunami.  

Whatever is needed to silence centuries.   

Yet deep in this darkness 

some poor prophet has a notion, gets   

illuminated by illegible ledgers   

of surviving texts  

of ancient playwrights. 

And because those words are beautiful  

or because the suffering  

of denying the truth is just too complicated  

or just because the Earth must molt  

like some disgusting arthropod  

the light breaks through again: 

The library reappears 

and a new spider hangs in the sun.  

I call this portal Alexandria.  

It is a place for human goodness. 

But tomorrow holds a tremor 

and there are many arsonists.  


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