Gazing at an early reader,
memories of that first
illumination burst tangibly
through white spaces.
Pictures, senses, impressions
escape a flat slab, summon
a river of thought-clouds.
Lest the comic opportunities
distract you (as thought bubbles
to the surface in the service
of play), be surrounded by
the mist, by a willing mystery,
symbols placing other worlds
at the edge of your table. Watch
the book, how it tumbles
forth from the utterance
of strange, miming birds, words
arising through an opaque blankness:
approach the portal and seed.