Book of Guinness: Michele Santelia

I began at the end toward the beginning. Disrupted the sacred order one backward letter at a time, made ancient muses incoherent with the clack of hollow keystrokes on multiple blank boards. Noon to morning unraveled text rolled— eb ot ton ro eb ot— over an unseen screen. Scrolls, sea dead amass in stacks, an odyssey mired in transposing contents with emptiness— something into nothing. Day out, day in, diligent and precise, finally I make myself as something in the book of nothing. —Margie Doolan