When I Met My Muse by William Stafford
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. Art by R.C. Gorman
Recommended listening: I Want to Know - Goss
Links of the Day: How Solitude Enriches Creative Work The Agony of the Digital Tease The Cheapest Generation Getting inside the strange, secret world of Studio Ghibli
My interview with Hrishikesh Hirway, the man behind Song Exploder
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