breaking bookshelf

upon opening the door,
i saw my bookshelf had broken,
beat down by the weight of
the barbell which i had
foolishly set atop &
so, relishing in the chaotic
spill of beautiful
books,
now laying all over the floor
in a mess,
i wondered why i had ever invested
in a bookshelf to begin with?
thought to myself that back in the
days of school, i had them stacked
up in a chorus of uneven towers,
like that of Hitch, whom anytime he
did an interview from the room
where he wrote, one could
adore the stacks upon stacks that
this brilliant man did pick &
devour from, to weave his
works---
in rounding up the mess, i took the
bottom shelf
to lay on the floor as the new base for
a chorus of uneven towers
of my own,
as a tribute out of necessity
to the man, now gone,
but still with us---
one of those whom i wish i had
gotten to meet,
one of those whose voice still
thunders &
thunders,
against the wrongs of this horror that
we alive,
still call home.