Variation on a Spine Poem

I’ve been doodling around on my bookshelves when I should be writing so I solved the problem by taking a stab at a few “spine poems.” It seems a fitting way to observe National Poetry Month. Here’s today’s:

In the spirit of both #nationallibraryworkersday and #nationalpoetrymonth, here are a few books to go check out of your library. I call this variation on a #spinepoem. It’s what happens when someone puts a sticker on the spine of a book you could only find in a used bookstore.

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Sunday Sentence: String Too Short to be Saved by Donald Hall

“I understood that my grief, which I still carried like comfort, was not for my grandfather. The red branch on the green trues not only the first limb of the Republic to feel the cold of the winter; it was the death of my childhood, and the knowledge of my own vulnerability.” – String too Short to be Saved by Donald Hall

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I love reading them, so now I’ve joined the #SundaySentence party started by David Abrams over at the Quivering Pen and on Twitter. It’s not a review. It’s not a story. It’s just one sentence I read this week, presented “out of context and without comment” that hit me where I live. Do with it what you will.