Don’t read this fast.
No no.
Too fast.
You’re already doing it wrong
and we’ve only just started.
Slow down your eyes,
you slippery reader,
you skimmy-page-skipping,
meaning-misleader.
I can tell by the tilt
of your eyeballing head
you’re trying to “get it”
instead of be read.
Now don’t interrupt.
Yes, you did.
Just then.
You thought, “It’s just nonsense.”
I heard that, my friend.
Now Tweedle Beetle warned us
this might occur,
when readers start reading
with too much confer.
You see, when you read
like you’re hunting a point,
you squeeze all the juice
from the words at the joint.
And these words are not oranges.
They’re puddles.
They spill.
They behave very badly
when handled with will.
Now don’t flip the page.
Hey!
Put that thumb back.
You think skipping ahead
will get you on track?
Oh no no no no,
that won’t do at all.
This book gets offended
when pages get hauled.
Besides, if you skip,
the beetles get dizzy,
the puddles get pouty,
the meanings get fizzy.
Now you’re frowning.
I see it.
That wrinkle right there.
You’re wondering whether
this book is aware.
Well let me be clear
(and unclear at the same):
It only exists
while you’re playing the game.
The moment you stop
to decide what it means,
it turns into ink
and retreats from between.
So don’t ask it questions.
It asks you instead.
Why are you reading
what’s happening in your head?
Are you nodding along?
Are you lost?
Are you laughing?
Are you quietly judging
this book’s lack of graphing?
Now careful.
That judging just stirred up a ripple.
The puddle is wobbling.
The beetles are triple.
Look!
Right there on the line you just read,
three beetles are beetling
what you almost said.
One’s writing you down.
One’s reading it back.
One’s watching you read
with a critical knack.
And now you’re involved.
You can’t back away.
Congratulations, reader.
You’re in it.
You stay.
So read if you must,
but don’t read to win.
Don’t pin down the puddle
or button the spin.
Let words trip your tongue.
Let meaning run loose.
Let nonsense make sense
without tightening screws.
And if at the end
you’re unsure what you saw,
perfect.
That’s proof you followed the law.
The law of the puddle.
The rule of the read.
The beetle-approved
confusion you need.
Now turn the page.
…Unless you’re afraid
it might argue again.
(It will.)
