shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

James B. Nicola

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The Older You Get

(Cubist Sonnet)

The older you get, the more books you might know;
But the more, racked on your shelves, or stacked, there are;
So the chance that, when you tease one from a shelf,
It will betray some dim light of your Self,
Might be about the same. As when a star
Burns through a night cloud: Blazing where it was
Or is, but where it is or was is far,
So cool to you now, here.Even so,

You smile at stars, and tickle tomes, because
Each twinkling word, each sparkling dark, was lit
By some past deed, misdeed, big bang or thought;
And though you may not be consoled by it
Today, the amusement makes your cheektops wet,
Your heart hot,
happy you did not