On Finding One’s Voice<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I used to walk
across
Belmar bridge
to the
Paperback Exchange
where the shopkeeper\u2019s bell
went both ways
alerting the owner
of a customer\u2019s presence
while simultaneously announcing
the incoming olfactory tsunami of old books to customers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Shelves
packed to the ceiling, with
paperback stacks spilling onto the floor
in a visual assault
of identical covers
featuring
discount Fabio cradling corseted females
with overflowing bosoms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I used to walk
across the store
to the back wall
and
climb the library ladder,
up into the presence of greatness:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Camus I used to walk <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" On Finding One’s Voice I used to walkacrossBelmar bridgeto thePaperback Exchangewhere the shopkeeper\u2019s bellwent both waysalerting the ownerof a customer\u2019s presencewhile simultaneously announcing the incoming olfactory tsunami of old books to customers. Shelvespacked to the ceiling, withpaperback stacks spilling onto the floorin a visual assaultof identical coversfeaturingdiscount Fabio cradling corseted femaleswith overflowing bosoms. I used … <\/p>\n
Rand
Solzhenitsyn
Plath
Bukowski
Wilde
Jung
Nin
Dostoevsky<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n
along the beach at dawn
looking for bits of driftwood,
shells, and sea glass
there, against the polyphony of crashing waves
mixed with seagull calls,
searching for my own voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n