When I Met My Muse
I glanced at her and took my glasses
off – they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. “I am your own
way of looking at things, “ she said. “When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation.” And I took her hand.
I keep a notebook of art and design that I like. I leaf through the pages whenever I find myself lacking inspiration. Usually, I find something that gets the wheels turning again.