Nita Spittel - maple ridge, British Columbia (Canada):

This book speaks in guttural sounds - trying to explain the dust
    on its
cover. Put on the wrong shelf long ago it sat like an
    orphan praying for
adoption. One day someone will discover the first edition of Dante's
Inferno and start a search for other treasured tomes. Then perhaps
the dust won't be as thick anymore.

Alfred J Bruey - Jackson, MI (USA):

This book was brought into the library and put on the shelf
    by a writer who knew the library would never accept it. If
    he is caught, he will be sent to jail for illegally bringing
    a private book into a public library.
This book was dropped overboard from boat about twenty years ago and
    then last week a fisherman caught a large shark and when they
    cut it open this book was not inside it.
This book should be read from back to front because the author
    wants you to know what happened right away but wants to keep
    you in suspense about what started the whole thing.
This book was carried all through World War II. It is full
    of such sad stories that it even made the war look happy
    to the G.I.
This book asked me why I wanted to write about it. It
    claims to have led a quiet life. It denies being a hero
    or even a role model. This book is too modest for its
    own good.

Sarolina Shen Chang - Canton, Michigan (USA):

The title of this book is The Star, The Moon, The Sun.
    It has nothing to do with them. It is a
    love story. But then, it may have something to do with
    them.
I bought this book because it is heavy. I used it
    to iron out the wrinkles on my skirt at night.
I highlighted this poetry book with rose petals.
The 25-year-old postcard in this book reminds me where I bought it.
    It also reminds me that I'd forgotten to mail it to
    my parents asking for more money.
I hate to find hair, any color, in the library book.
    Is the book so hard to comprehend?

Katherine Borghardt - Ottawa, KS (USA):

This is the book of rules.
It says, choose your friends so
"you" look good
when you're walking down the street together.
In the Library, it's who you sit with
that is the criteria for judgement
and suddenly, I'm the ugly one.

judy loest - knoxville, tn (USA):

This book raised my dead, brought them to my door like a
    traveling band
of joyraisers carrying casseroles, chianti, and little bags of seeds.
This book walked me down into the dark cave of grief and
    left a candle
so that I might find my way out.
This book gave me an answer and then a question.

Diane Cochrane - Poughkeepsie, NY (USA):

This battered book is the one I'd take to a desert island.
This good book is the one I read not knowing the author
    was dead,
and this slim volume is its lonely companion, written by her husband
    the year following her death.
Here is the only book I swear I ever stole in my
    life. When I "borrowed" it for the last time, it
    had not been checked out in over 10 years.
A dust-catcher to others; to my soiled soul, it was bread.
   

Claudia Belleau - New Bedford, MA (USA):

This livre is the synaesthesia of new morning over La Bastille,
cornucopia of muted, grey serge balloons silken under greedy fingers,
translating riff of sky, tripping the goddess memory,
rewinding the mauve sunset ribbon to brilliant golden place of origins
when first tongue gave sight to this chant of seers

Jim Sullivan - Delavan, IL (USA):

This book lay for days under the dash board on the passenger
    side till I noticed the drip; now I can't read Dante but
    with a sense of loss and regret.
This book . . . no, that one.
So much money to read this book only once--such extravagance!

Kevin W. Grossman - Santa Cruz, CA (USA):

I didn’t know this book was loaded, he told the homicide detective
    sitting across from him at a table in a pungent interrogation room
    that smelled of consternation. I only wanted to scare them a
    little, to make them understand why it’s not okay to make fun
    of me. I don’t give a goddamned who the hell they
    think they are, but they can’t make fun of me like that.
I only wanted them to feel insignificant like I do when they
    tease me and shit in my mouth. I was really angry
    but I swear to God I didn’t know this book was loaded.
    I only wanted to scare them. I didn’t know what
    I was doing until it was too late.
The detective whistled, shook his head and picked up the book.
    Son, this book holds 5,000 live rounds of retribution and caustic hateful
    words, and you mean to tell me you didn’t know it was
    loaded and that you didn’t know what you were doin’? I’m
    not buyin’ that load of crap.
You knew exactly what you were doin’ the day before last when
    you took this book out of your backpack and entered the cafeteria
    at approximately 12:15 p.m. where you opened fire on over fifty students
    oblivious to your petty insignificance and murderous intention. No son, it’s
    quite goddamned clear you knew what you were doin’, and yes, it
    is too late. The detective slammed the book down on the
    table and left the room.
I didn’t know this book was loaded, he mumbled. I didn’t
    fucking know.

Denise Dunn - ABQ, NM (USA):

Today is this book's birthday and it didn't get roaring drunk and
    try to kill itself or anyone else, though some of the other
    books encouraged it, just to keep up the side.
This book comes in many colors and won't change a hair for
    you. You've got it under your skin.
The pages of this book can lock on automatically and give you
    your position anywhere in the known universe, whether you want to know
    or not.
This is the book I read walking slowly home from the drugstore
    where I bought it. I was twelve and it was older
    than time and enfolded the whole library in its pages and has
    never forgotten me.
This book I read in the basement near the window with the
    spider which made a little sound like eeee when I listened
    carefully. This book learned to mimic that sound whenever I opened
    it and still does.

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