i’m waiting for the clown to make me laugh and spill their gutsabout all the tic-tacks left un-ticked and bare,while waiting outside your trailer park community’s gardenwondering how much manure it takes to grow strawberries this lusciousand roundand depressingand monumentally unfazed by the rest of the world’s disasters
She buys books. She buys thousands of books. Millions, in fact. Billions, perhaps. She buys more books than any library in the world.
But she doesn’t read them. She doesn’t have the time. Instead, she builds. Miles of books stacked one on top of another. They peak into the stratosphere. The structure shadows over the world. People begin questioning why she’s stacking so many books. A TYRANNY OF BOOKS, people say.
She replies, I’M DYSLEXIC. I BUILT A CITY OF BOOKS BEFORE I ALLOWED THEM TO BUILD THE CITY FOR ME.
No one responded. And she never read any book.
you listen to music,
you listen to a podcast,
you listen to the radio,
you listen to the voices in your head,
you go off the grid,
and the voices become more pronounced
Fred Aiken Writing 