Poetry

Litanies Against Dying, 9 (191.)

The comic book
(graphic novel? graphic saga?)
graphic epic
is over one thousand pages long,
and it sat on the shelf,
staring with straight wide spine for a face,
much more intimidating than it should be.
In one night, over two hundred pages went by.
Real fast, real fun.
Laughter erupted, out loud, from my grinning skull,
and I kept looking at the clock
before I forced myself to stop reading
and go to sleep.
I can handle a little deprivation,
but any fewer than six hours a night
and I’m miserable.
So I saved more of the comics
for tonight.
They’re beautiful. They’re brilliant.
They’re supposedly being adapted into a tv show,
and although I prefer textual versions
to filmic ones,
I’m excited to see
the wonderful imagery
moving on a screen.
Like any good illustration,
each panel brings the story
to moving life,
and the book runs.
It has fun.
And I have fun
watching its fun unfold,
page by lovely page.

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