The paper pieces
interspersed in the pages
of the poetry book
– some spine-shattered, cover-falling Ferlinghetti –
offer little insight
or understanding of the poems therein.

They barely even inform anything interesting
about the author of the notes.
Random names,
some dates and numbers,
and occasional scribblings
populate currently unsticky Post-Its.
A coffee-stained bookmark
marks off page 33 silently
and a torn TCBY coupon
– void if mutilated –
is over on page 88.
No worries about the coupon;
it expired in ’96
and TCBY closed in ’03.

There is little help provided to decode
this ancient text
with its yellowed pages
and weathered smell.
It will take great effort and perseverance
to come to some semblance of an interpretation of this classic New Directions tome. Only reading will help us now
so I better get to it.