Is it possible to make verse from the To-Be-Read pile? Let’s see.
November verse 13: To be read
I've counted ninety-six and growing,
lined neat on shelf and heaped by bed,
gifts, impulse buys, gateways to knowing,
some I lust for, some I dread.
War, genocide, intrigue, corruption,
love, fantasy, delight, disruption:
you never know until you look
inside the covers of a book.
But if I read two hundred pages
(including pages filled with pics)
daily till I'm ninety-six,
obsessed but not, I hope, contagious
these unread piles would hardly shrink.
Oh well, it costs much less than drink.
Me fail? I fly! 