Karen Caldwell - Alexandria, VA (USA):

This book is it! My secret read, comforted by solitude -
    thanks to the library...

Pat Cutting - Salt Lake City, Utah (USA):

This book, the marriage book, led me unto the path
of righteousness, for his name's sake.

Peggy Hapke Lewis - St' Louis, MO (USA):

This book was read to me in the park by my lover
    as I lay beside him on
a blanket we later found was infested with fleas.
This book is perfect for tethering my helium balloons.
After this book I will write something important.
This was the last book I wrote.

Jim Howard - Kansas City, MO (USA):

This book tastes like milk.
This book makes me laugh so hard, the last book squirts out
    my nose.
The blurbs for this book just won a logrolling contest.
When they found the body in the peat bog, guess which book
    was clutched to its breast? Uh-huh.
This book tried to hump my leg.

Athena Kildegaard - Guanajuato, (Mexico):

This book never danced the two-step, never did a strip-tease, never got
    a hard-on.
This book was never left in the lurch.
This book never rushed to print or spilled the ink or spoke
    its mind or ate its words.
This book never had a screw loose, never got down to brass
    tacks, never hit the nail on the head, never hammered it home.
This book never upset the apple cart, killed the fatted calf, counted
    its chickens, or cried over spilled milk.

Cathy McArthur - Bayside, New York (USA):

I see you reading my cover. What time is it?
    Morning, night? I'm blue outside, like the ocean, my name hidden
    underneath water, shells. Will you dive in ?
A fortune teller sings while you read, her words-- sound waves.
    She knows you'll get to the core of what you think I'm
    saying. You hold an indigo bracelet, a ring. You discover
    something in yourself too, dark like an amethyst stone. This is
    not Emily's purple remembrance.
This books speaks now. Words come in a rush, flocks of
    housefinches, just outside a library window. They fly up when you
    approach.
You carry my words to your next appointment. You've taken me out.
We're on the bus, the subway, going somewhere.

Athena Kildegaard - Guanajuato, (Mexico):

This book never witnessed a swearing-in or a jumping-off or a going-down
    or a hoving-to or a putting-on or a letting-slip or a warding-off
    or a gloating-over or a setting-right or a rooting-out.
This book never drifted with the tide, never ran like the wind,
    never swam against the current, never weathered a storm.
This book never broke down, broke in, broke bread, broke out, broke
    even, broke through, broke fast, broke ground, or broke wind.
This book was never spell-bound, moon-struck, tongue-tied, hot-headed, red-handed, or out-witted.
This book never ran amuck, never forked over, never made merry, never
    toyed with, never hankered after, never cried wolf, never turned tail, never
    gave notice.
This book never ran out of luck, or came to blows, or
    fell to its knees, or swallowed the bait, or broke the news,
    or bit the dust, or popped the question.
This book never made a fool of itself, never went scot free,
    never stuck to its guns, never went whole hog, never put its
    foot down, never promised the moon, never lost its marbles, never high-tailed
    it out.
And until right this moment, page one, this book never lived.

Denise Dunn - Albuquerque, NM (USA):

This book is like throwing the baby out with the bathwater
This is a book of my DNA. Look closely.
This book God could have written, if God had wanted to
Let this book push all your buttons. It will.
Try the pages of this book with peanut butter and a fine
    merlot

Laura Moe - Zanesville, OH (USA):

This book made me decide there is no meaning to life.
This book told me how to get rid of my cellulite- it
    didn’t work.
This book was ten cents at a garage sale.
I might never finish this book.
This book is all about me from my fist kiss to last
    week’s boat ride.

Helen Ruggieri - Bradford, PA (USA):

This book is handmade by the author -
no one else has read it;
no one ever will.

Linda Goettina - Los Angeles, CA (USA):

This book I read in the bathtub, even though my mother told
    me no!.
Now its pages are splotched and soggy and smell like dirty wet
    dog.
I couldn't leave it on dry land with a heroine in distress.
Now I'm distressed at the damage done.
But the heroine survives!

Sr Josephine Burns - Los Altos Hills, CA (USA):

This book is the one I was reading when my mother died

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