JAMES HOUSTON ARTS

If you were blindfoldedAnd led silentlyInto a lending libraryWould there beAny sense of Doubt Among the sundry myriadSenses that would igniteIn such circumstanceKnowing exactlyWhere you now were Lest you be anosmicWould not olfactory giftsBe heightened Raging In factWith all that print glueBoard and binding threadPerhaps a hint a whispOf old leatherRubbed to a shineBy eager…