The books are piling up and there’s no plan
beyond trying to get through them as fast as

I can, but with too many started now like open
web browsers – strange too to be comparing

the old-fashioned word with the world that was
supposed to kill it. Weirder to know there’s now

two forces conspiring to take my time with some
vague promise of making me smarter or richer

on some philosophical or spiritual level, though
never anything resembling proof. Just enough to

keep me at it, to keep me alive but forever aloof.
I wander through pages online or in books and

grab bits and pieces to store in a rammed-full
drawer – in a maxed-to-capacity-and-beyond

hard-drive; around the edges of a life that should
always have many more commitments.