Uncertain Of All Save That They Enter

It escapes me now, the fact
of how far I could go before
turning the page, or settling
on a word to direct my gaze.
You understand I’ve got no bearing
on critical ridicule, or block quotes
masquerading in half italic text
to perpetuate one thought in place
of another. I’m tired of quotes
laden with significance, repeated
from source to source, carefully
plotted and displayed in the back
of the index. I’ve half a mind
to tear out the last twenty pages
of every book in that pile over there
and keep them for myself, as if
I alone could erase every piece
of research that placed us in this
moment, as if the world could be
naked again, if not exactly new.