in the library, a secret tunnel

In the library
behind books never lent
there is a secret tunnel leading to
different places and times.

However, this being a library, this discovery has never been discussed.

Attempts to share secret are meet with a finger to the lip and a ssshhhhh from the hatchet faced librarian.

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51 comments

  1. multiplemichael

    the doctor was wrestling with touching the female language
    he wanted to ask permission before maneuvering
    yes there were neck kisses
    his lips had touched the alphabet
    the secret tunnel
    temptation
    it was going to be a slippery struggle1

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      The language manipulated
      and pedestrians ordered dic-
      tionaries to understand the
      clinical vowels

      dot to dot treasure maps
      associations with bone, gristle
      parts described in sex papers

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        it was no secret that the woman at the library was no woman
        wearing the skin but free of the misery
        revisions and not the religious tv frauds
        big dots hang below the treasure
        irregular medicine and they sleep

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        …and they sleep the sleep of
        sleeping children
        cut off, severed
        from tainted
        memories smelling of medicinal
        drowsiness
        observed by bones in white coats
        feverish erections scan
        tick sheets

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        medicinal drowsiness
        now you are talking party
        lethargic on the bed
        it is behind night
        red with casper ghost lube
        do your worst
        all poetry comes through pain
        rupture words that cannot be said
        articulate ammunition bang bang
        resist premature interpretation

        Like

  2. multiplemichael

    just got an email from the library
    i may face the rasp of a librarian’s tongue
    anesthetizing the staff is frowned upon
    seems they find the root-stock of making poetry distasteful
    what’s a little medicinal drowsiness for the sake of art ?
    i didn’t dig the secret tunnel
    my hands were dirt free
    whatever brown washed off
    i am innocent

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the library are handing out fines
      for over due ideas and encouraging all DNA to return through the doors

      it is now a museum
      the secret tunnel a tourist trap
      hatchet faced bee-hive librarian now hawking cheap tchotchke

      and children of the future look at books online and all they see is paper.

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        rumor is that the librarian has a vaginal gymnasium
        one can make gluttural sounds if one places the back of the tongue against the soft ceiling
        one may have to turn off common sense
        the front part of the hindquarters
        a basketball hoop
        dawdle there

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      in the near future people not directly involved with the library or the secret tunnel
      will be seen sitting in an establishment he will be an analyst she is a patient
      he gets paid to fool her into expressing her deepest feelings
      she has pockets full of resentment and frustration
      some are old and date back to childhood
      they are the cause of painful discomfort
      they serve many useful purposes
      underlying dynamics
      he could smell her on his fingers
      ingenious how she used the small circle
      to get an advantage over him

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        the doctor thought of her as the girl unopened
        he wrote many things on his tablet:
        *calculated deception
        *guarded maneuvering
        *instinctive fear
        between them a great freud
        her womb like a jack-o-lantern
        softened and made gentle
        feminine rupture

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        hours spent listing reasons for the vision they all claimed they saw – the tunnel – the bar codes grafted onto supple spines – a metallic taste as the doctor fingered texts nodding in her direction – she – she gazed up thinking of a cloud she saw as a child – the library contained a billion words but no answers
        closing time comes quick

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        the library contains a billion words all questions and no answers
        they give poets purgatives when they need more
        sort-of-an-oral douching task
        are you a spectator ?
        jism for the juvenile section comes from india
        one hand answers the computer support line
        the other robs the pleasure tree

        Like

  3. multiplemichael

    ( you ) on the evening news folding your tent
    now that you’ve been nominated
    will it go to your head ?
    will the buffet of words try to cut costs ?
    try to remember the warmth of cigarettes kindled
    the days spent keeping the cemetery clean
    presexual snakes with their wide eyes
    it wasn’t just aborted sleep
    it was a way of life

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      all awards are just tchotchkes – meaningless trinkets – write for the sake of the words – allow them out don’t cage them inside a head -muddled, a thousand ideas snagged in cobwebs amongst tiny corpse – the cemetery gig was life experience won in a competition I never remembered entering – we will all forget everything – I am just trying to capture it – butterflies in nets – dead elephants on the savannah

      Like

  4. multiplemichael

    today was saccharine day at the library
    coal-tar compound hallelujah
    people do that sort of thing with words
    bruised poets
    women with white brassieres
    hybrid languages
    idioms of the jungle
    anyway, they were asking when you would return

    Like

  5. multiplemichael

    what a wild day at the library
    bath salts and saccharine
    lots of perfect saccharine-themed gifts to be purchased
    one could buy bulk shellfish poop
    naughty crossword puzzles
    photographs of healthy beavers
    desideratum for the masses
    several people mentioned your name

    Like

  6. multiplemichael

    within the bounds of yesterday
    someone brought their paralyzed pooch
    a rather large dog that was very yielding
    compulsive touching warm silk
    development seemed possible
    seven large cups of coffee
    bath salts and saccharine
    a bad stain on the blanket

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      dogs are not Gods – unless your dyslexic – and they shiver when they shit – shiver so hard it looks like there’s two of them –
      chosen to guard the gates of hell – promoted to guard the library steps

      covered in turpentine
      hidden under sheets from prying eyes

      the fines will mount up –
      the deficiet acknowledged

      Like

  7. multiplemichael

    the secret tunnel is a passage from potentiality
    it takes courage to be a real sinner
    one must crawl downhill till downhill goes no more
    how far can you stretch the umbilical cord ?
    darkened hammers pounding pud
    how can the poets sleep ?
    defenseless against masturbation
    narcissistic choke
    the crime of pull
    ungentlemanly
    peppery jism flying
    they speak not
    the little seed

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the tunnel, a metaphor?
      a throat – deep – hanging tonsils useless
      a slide descending?
      Cosseted in womb cocoon – sloshing amniotic fluid drowning amongst the umbilical restriction of airways
      are more tunnels

      You can survive birth but you won’t survive life

      Like

  8. multiplemichael

    she spent three hours trying to think of a metaphor for metaphor
    an indoor swimming pool for her white underparts
    luminous opium poppy
    fractured narrative religion
    death with no escape
    the devil’s big toe
    gotta go where there is scenery
    subterranean library
    athletic and angry
    fashioned poetry
    push it out of bed

    Like

    • multiplemichael

      the library needed to purchase a book so they had a $5 mouth shark day
      snippets of conversation were placed in the panty waistband of said librarian
      for $5 one could orally remove a tidbit
      wow, talk about the bouquet
      “go for the atlas”

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        Go for the atlas they yelled like an audience on a gameshow – explore the cities that are lost under the staples –
        explore the curves of geography – dip your toes in the water – bathing sharks show teeth sharp –

        and when she got home the librarian removed the snippets of conversation from her waistband –

        she laid them end to end to construct her resignation letter

        Like

  9. multiplemichael

    her resignation letter was more like a novel
    over the years there were constantly new reasons to leave that honky book repository
    the fact that there were only 17 books and a box of reader’s digest
    that her co-worker constantly wrote letters to penthouse magazine
    words heavy on the ointment

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      ointment words crafted to skin mags she never read and
      books – books she touch with the moist tip of her tongue

      books despoitories reminded her of Lee Harvey O – sunny days – green grass slow
      moving cars – a brain and seconds later – mush – sprayed on virgin white dress –

      resignation moments mere fleeting chimeras

      she thought of history
      of the library
      of microfiche
      dead presidents cold beds and days after tomorrow

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        she had a wallet full of dead presidents
        sometimes when the static got too bad
        she would cut the chalk-white flesh of her chest
        papercuts took her mind off her problems
        her chest looked like a road map of ohio

        Like

  10. multiplemichael

    she had that “iggy pop” kind of souvenir chest going on
    ritualized self-destruction
    self-pity cigarettes
    a venti starbuck
    a little suicide
    in a bathroom in complete privacy
    the blade inside a rhyming dictionary

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      a souvenir chest, not buried by pirates – contains no riches, just organs, beating bloody
      – a GG Allin size ball of loathing – saw her on the perimeter looking down into a Wile E Coyote dust cloud
      – she used her date of birth as grid references – found that place on a map
      circled it like with black marker pen
      like the areola circles erect nipples
      – days spent staring at black rings

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        she knew jesus didn’t need a satellite to locate her
        as a little girl she loved to wade in the shallow creek behind her house
        the birds would sing and dragonflies would dart about
        it was pure bliss
        then one day the stagnant pond inside her burst forth
        it was a hell of a bloody day
        but that was a long long time ago
        many avenues have been explored
        as of late that damn library

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        musty smells of yesterday
        years ago
        bleeding gums no connection with a higher power
        her thoughts were just frayed ends
        night time horrors drifting thoughts of antiquated filling systems

        a tunnel
        a dim light
        the end in sight

        Like

  11. multiplemichael

    how could she forget the first time a catheter was introduced into her urethra ?
    no one on the schoolbus knew what a female urethra was all about
    she knew it hurt far worse than a cheeseball out the bum
    a tad too personal…….what could be more personal ?
    you get to see the lips and the button
    everything
    in color
    like going to mexico with a million dollars

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      drugged memories of catheter insertion,
      some thing medicinal?
      faint recall of beeping hospital monitors an aroma of bleach rubber shoes squeak on shiny floors
      nothing is to personal evertything is stored
      somewhere
      her signature
      proof of agreement
      of acceptance

      spitballs spat still stick

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        you can purchase photographs of spit-balls
        any resemblances to spit-balls from your doing is purely accidental
        was there a parable about spit-balls ?
        Freud was interested in psychic spit-balls
        please don’t stare at my skeleton

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        life being a current going nowhere
        verbal diarrhea shot from muscle-bound holes
        parasitic readers with nothing to say
        they call late at night begging
        mister mike, will you glue a tight seal ?

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the radio voices begging from the cold hinterland of static and loneliness – AM PM differentials dependent of grid reference – a box of talking voices fill up voids – mainly nocturnal
        amongst the stars with strangers – long time listener
        first time caller

        lurking in the corners
        at the edges

        mike and his unquenchable thirst
        dams the well only to blow it up

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        HUMILIATION—HUMILIATION
        *curdled jism
        *snap-on bow ties
        *virility without possibility
        *geography without motion
        *sideshows with near-nude women
        ————————————————–
        women with their underpants on fire
        Old Testament Girls ?

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        blood to the surface
        humiliation is red
        – shoes with no laces
        – stain on shirt the frayed cuff
        – x-rays with no skeletons

        the sketches of her are fading
        she is becoming a ghost

        I must find her birth certificate
        I must return the books

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        ————-A 3 DOLLAR SQUIRREL IS A 3 DOLLAR SQUIRREL————-
        my favorite line from the Curie Diary:
        the epode should follow the strophe and antistrophe
        government agents sit up all night trying to crack the code
        their instruments are very sensitive
        unmindful and untainted but sensitive
        how do you do math with pronouns ?
        when it comes to the French doing math
        please do not mention their chastity girdle

        Like

  12. multiplemichael

    she wasn’t a religious nut but she did think a time would come for the MARK
    right before you get the MARK they ask you one simple question
    “do you love honey boo boo ?”
    she thought that was damn easy….who wouldn’t love that dear sweet child ?
    the clock is ticking
    at midnight she will turn into her mother

    Like

    • multiplemichael

      disproporionate sensitivity
      dolly arm dolly arm
      but not an index finger
      pleasures of the unexpected
      a quick hand on the way back from the game
      selective amnesia
      the day you turned into your mother
      love was little more than an irritant
      love was to become a lifelong scab

      Like

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