PLEASE BURY ME IN THE LIBRARY

In 16 poems, all but two appearing here for the first time, the Midwest’s cleverest living comic poet enjoins readers, “Please bury me in the library / With a dozen long-stemmed proses.” He suggests altering classic titles (“Green Eggs and Spam”), offers reading-related haiku, a library acrostic—and even literary criticism, from “A great book is a homing device / For navigating paradise” to “A bad book owes to many trees / A forest of apologies.” Stone debuts with broadly brushed, page-filling acrylics to match: Children in pj’s rest beneath or teeter atop piles of books; mice and owls peruse large volumes by moon- and candle-light; an elderly, rather Seussian creature listens contentedly to a young reader. Finishing with “Acknowledgements” to “Shel and Jack and Myra Cohn,” plus other “word wizards,” this offering from the prolific Lewis won’t stay buried long, no matter where it’s planted. (Poetry. 8-10)