I cannot read certain authors
without feeling ashamed.
As if all my flaws are exposed.
The gift of writing
is the double-entendre:
what is said,
what is meant,
the layered lexicography
of experience,
the masterful placement
of what fits.
I keep reading – pissed, pleased, perplexed.
Not to hear the echoes of words,
not to follow the Ariadne thread –
blasphemy.
-Byron Hoot
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