Book Travellers: For Italo Calvino

Italo, I have often had this dream:
A bookshop winds on spiral stairs, with shelves
Inviting eager eyes to search for names
And spines which lie, “Yes, I am here; it’s me.”
Italo, in my dream it always seems
That though my search for perfect books will delve
Across each shelf, the titles play these games,
Occluding space until my eyes can’t see.
Italo, you and I both long to find
The story which awaits an unseen end.
These fabricated books, these openings,
Deny us closure, so the tale winds
On through, uncertain, going where it wends,
Unseen the real story that living brings.

2 thoughts on “Book Travellers: For Italo Calvino

  1. He’s one of my favorite writers! I know his gardener, a wonderful man, old but still alive and well and I’ve got a place near to the house where Italo grew up… Thank you Matthew!

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