Stories

A hardcover  
novel 
is opened and 
softly interrupts 
the quiet,
or maybe
it
creates the 
quiet.
both.
neither.
And the wildness 
of the storm
outside
of the window,
or the peace
of the 
sun
splitting the 
clouds
apart
to cradle
the world in 
its arms,
become frozen,
and these 
ink-smeared
strips of
trees that 
were here
before you were
born
will reduce your life
to a
speck,
as you absorb
the
squiggles and lines
we call words,
which make
up the 
foundation
and roof
of our whirling world,
because they are 
something more than
lines on a page.
They have a three-dimensional shape,
whether 
typed with softly clicking
keys and blank screens,
or
written with scratching
pens and
bendable paper,
or spoken with sharp
tongues and
fast-moving
fingers.
these words
will make you
bleed,
will make you 
want,
will make you 
need,
will make you 
feel,
will make you
cry, 
laugh,
and will drag
you into 
the depths 
of their
stories.

The book 
closes with a 
soft
“Thump”
The story is finished.