breaking bookshelf

upon opening the door,

i saw my bookshelf had broken,

beat down by the weight of

the barbell which i had

foolishly set atop &

so, relishing in the chaotic

spill of beautiful

books,

now laying all over the floor

in a mess,

i wondered why i had ever invested

in a bookshelf to begin with?

thought to myself that back in the

days of school, i had them stacked

up in a chorus of uneven towers,

like that of Hitch, whom anytime he

did an interview from the room

where he wrote, one could

adore the stacks upon stacks that

this brilliant man did pick &

devour from, to weave his

works---

in rounding up the mess, i took the

bottom shelf

to lay on the floor as the new base for

a chorus of uneven towers

of my own,

as a tribute out of necessity

to the man, now gone,

but still with us---

one of those whom i wish i had

gotten to meet,

one of those whose voice still

thunders &

thunders,

against the wrongs of this horror that

we alive,

still call home.