A Muse, Meant?


You look familiar in an instant.

Then you fade into darkness.

You come when not called,

And reside in enigmatic places.

You have given me more than I could ever repay.

Please accept my gratitude.

You provide me influence.

Impetus and infrastucture are intelligentsia.

You liberate.

A channel, a guide, a light.

Visibility.

The marriage of my effort and your ease.

You are always welcome.

And if you’re ever unsure about coming around, I say, come ahead anyway.

The door is always open.

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“I’m a sniffer, you’re a sniffer, everybody is a sniffer…”

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Musty smells imbued in page.

Printed matter ink aroma.

The odor of a freshly cracked book.

That is the smell of both potential and kinetic energy.

Pull it off the shelf, sniff, replace.

Libraries and bookstores are olfactory factories.

Swimming in an ocean of dried pulp and glue.

Paper cuts are badges of honor.

Binding one sense to another.

Biblio sisters and brothers.

Give it a whiff!

 

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