It is half asleep
the other half
tries to detach its head
beneath a cairn of books
nothing doing, trapped.
Wedged between Auden
and Zadjewski. It worries drool
might stain the pages
funnies at his new literary hat
he wears his taste on his head
some of the worlds greatest minds
are on the top of his
it can make one unstable
it can make it difficult to move
