FebPoWriMo 23

Sometime during eternity 
This bookseller shows up
Asking for the manuscript
At the beginning of a great career
And since he’s a hip bookseller
He knows the literary reference
Will not be lost on the hearers
And he goes on to publish
These square b/w pocket sized books
The kind you might find at the candystore
On the carousel next to the jujubes
And they make their way around
The world past the obscenity trials
Landing even in some cadet class
As in the famous photograph
You might have seen making the rounds
While he kept selling books
And greeting young minds
In the enchanted city by the sea
Far from the rockaways of his heart
The only island in his mind
Speaking as to a dog in the street
His own rambling coherent autobiography
Over a steady stream of cafe late night
Upright bass jazz of consciousness
The love nut suffered somewhat
Instructing the horseman to pass
He must arise and go now
To the isle of Manisfree
Way out beyond the broken words
And the usual unreliable sources
To the woods of Arcady