A book, or two, or three, or four,
Upon my tables, chairs, and floor.
I take them from my shelves to read
So in my head ideas will breed.
When I unearth a rotten thought
From paperback that I have bought,
I do not want it quickly banned
But rather wish to understand
Just what the author was about
By working with such shabby grout.
Not ev’ry book must sacred be,
And some are written scurvily --
But banning books does not succeed
In protecting any creed.
Rather, when a book is rot,
I’d like to see the author shot . . .
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