Saturday, 21 July 2012


by Amit Majmudar

for Jorge Luis Borges

I stand before the books as I might stand
beneath the night sky. They’re in stacks and stacks
of self-contained infinities demand-
ing exploration. I have neither maps
nor ladders to pursue these stars,
these books that burn within themselves. That’s when
he comes and shows me where to start,
a blind librarian with a lantern and
a hand that takes my own. He knows the books
for me, he knows exactly where they are.
When he points, I at last know where to look.
The deep night sky he navigates by heart,
and as he shows them to me, one by one
I find those far stars opening into suns.


  1. I was looking for a grit recipe but somehow found blogs with grit in their names. There is one called Grit in the Oyster and it looked like a religious blog, then there is Grit in the Gap and it looked like a school type blog, then there is yours. So I read the poem, which I liked a lot. I have loads of books – maybe 3 to 4 thousands? But I can never find the one I am looking for – I wish I had a blind librarian around.

    1. Grit in the Oyster! Ha! it sounds far naughtier than a religious blog!
      I have never eaten grits, ever. I've had them explained to me, but I have to admit, from this side of the atlantic they don't sound too appealing.

      I also need the blind librarian, not least because I'm planning to move, and I can't take a zillion books, but if I get into the what to keep, what to discard debate, I'll end up reading them all, and nothing will get done. I have enough to stock a small bookshop. No reasonable offer refused. Send a truck.


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