canon chain

Books strewn about a room,
Stacked and in single repose,
Cared for in a half-hazardous
Manic kind of way
Organized in a fleeting system
Something sparked in Shelley
And led to Dawkins
Then Hegel came to mind
And a dictionary was needed
Which led to another, more specific book of terms
And a word below Medusa
Made me think of The Decameron
Which will always lead to Chaucer and his Tales of Canterbury
And he turned a phrase that made me think
Of Brian Greene and The Elegant Universe
Which will inevitably call for a visit to The Double Helix
Where an annotation that follows a footnote,
Makes me think of Burroughs
And eventually Hunter Thompson
And then I am onto Thoreau
And Emerson
And then Bierce and a visit must be made to Twain
Which is where the books were last seen
Some with French flashcards as place-markers
Others with a rose’s leaf
And a pencil in one
Where, in the margin, there is scribbled the briefest of notes,
I love nights like these.