Imperturbable Pulp Poem by Paul Brookes

obscurity of littered pages,
adumbration shadow mountains.
chronicles bookcase furrowed,
creases wrinkled shelves deposits.

are we the books we read,
or do the books absorb every reader?
lives soaking into book covers, a sponge,
to retell them to their neighbours, of joy or sorrow.

racks full of gossip, volume to volume.
sometimes they glare at me
as if to say dust me off and read,
other wise I shall just be dead space,
pages of littered obscurity.