8 November 2011

nothing to read

nothing to read but my palimpsest self



  1. This one came about after I dived into a small second-hand book shop. I had only ever been in there once before, a few weeks earlier. It's a charity-run place, small and crammed higgledy piggledy from floor to ceiling. One particular book caught my eye. I thought, I used to have a book with a cover like that many years ago. A small-press poetry book. Leafing through it, I found on the inside front cover my own signature. It had been my very own copy! Later, I worked out that I must have got rid of it at least 12 years ago; I wonder where it had been in the meantime. (Of course, I had to buy it again.)