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Katherine Borghardt - Ottawa, KS (USA):
April 04, 2001:
This book is the champagne, whacked across the bow, kissing
our sorry asses goodbye!
This book is a catalogue of thread, the common one running through
and tying us together.
This book is the book of registry, a running commentary on who
and what material, or immaterial, they gave.
April 05, 2001:
This book is the company I keep.
It is the translucent, golden-rimmed teacup, or the clay-baked stoneware mug
with impressions of wildflowers pushed into it while it was still malleable.
This book offers green, black, or Grey by the name of Earl.
One lump or two, Albert Goldbarth?
April 06, 2001:
This book is the sleeve upon which I wear my heart...
read it, and weep.
April 07, 2001:
Al, if you want us to sign your yearbook just say so!
"Remember all the great
times in the Library!"
April 08, 2001:
Commune with Nature
commune with God
commune with Poets
This book is my hymnal.
April 09, 2001:
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.
April 10, 2001:
This book is a book of names
listed alphabetically or otherwise,
meanings and derivations buried within the text
making music to the ear...listen...
I think I'll name my unborn daughter Sarolina.
April 11, 2001:
This book was an invitation to the birthday party,
the reception, the banquet, the wedding, and I accepted,
drinking till my head spun, till all the colors melded into one
delicious swirl, seeping out the corners of my consciousness
like meringue, when it weeps.
April 12, 2001:
This small, thin book, softly colored with pastel drawings of women