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Punctuated Browse:
The found poetry of the OPAC

I wish
I wish I had a red dress.
I wish I had made you angry earlier.
I wish I was in Baltimore.
I wish I were a butterfly.
I wish I were twins.
I wish I'd written that.

Life is like
a chicken coop ladder,
a cinema of stills,
a cucumber,
a glass of tea.

I speak
I speak for Joe Doakes (I speak for Lebanon).
I speak for myself (I speak for Thaddeus Stevens).
I speak for the Chinese (I speak for the devil).
I speak for the people. (I speak for the silent prisoners of the Soviets).

I speak for this child.

I speak Hypercard. I speak in oandor [sic].
I speak my own piece. I speak my own piece [Russian].
I speak of Africa. I speak of freedom.
I speak to the silent. I speak to the stars.

I dream
I dream a world,
I dream now of the sun,
I dream of Madonna,
I dream of microwaves,
I dream of you jumping,
I dream poems,
I dream too much.

I heard
I heard a low and mournful sound. I heard a sailor. I heard a scream in the street. I heard a sick man's dying sigh.
I heard a thousand blended notes. I heard an angel.
I heard it through the grapevine.

I heard my sister speak my name. I heard the old fisherman say, "I heard the owl call my name."
I heard the solemn bells that flung. I heard their souls.
I heard you twice the first time.

Form follows
Form follows content, fiasco.
Form follows fiction, finance.
Form follows form.
Form follows function -- or does it?
Form follows libido.

Remember experiences of politics and AIDS in South Africa?
Remember Houston?
Remember the future!

Remember, remember!
Remember the distance that divides us?
Remember when?

Remember God?
Remember the story of the Gwich'in Traditional Caribou Skin Clothing Project?
Remember to file your form 5500 or 5500 EZ [Online]!

Remember the hour when sadly we parted?
Remember your lovers [sound recording]?
Remember me?

Located and phrased (but otherwise uncurated or sorted) by Meg V. Meg

Source: title search in New York University OPAC (Online Public Library Catalog), 2009.
Reprinted from the Library Society of the World zine of that year.

As a librarian, Meg V. Meg ( knew there must be a poem somewhere in all of those books.