With nothing
Before you
Anything is possible,
With the imagination
There are
No “real”
Boundaries.
The open page
Lays before me
Like a lover
Calling me to bed
To crinkle the sheets
And color them
With our
Lovemaking.
The sidewalk
Throws itself
At my feet
Beggin' me
For a little attention
That turns into
Hours
Lost starring
At drawn eyes
Drowning in a sea
Of colors
To make rainbows
Jealous.
Voices whisper
Nay
Insist,
I fill
The screen
With pixilated
Words so they
May live
Inside the machine
Seen by
Your eyes
And live.
I remember
When I was no
More than
A sick child
And visited
The other worlds
Because there was
No 100+ channels
So I left my body
Behind and traveled
Only as the bodiless can,
Could,
Do.
Now I am here
Staring at the blank
Surface
Capable of so much
And wonder
What creation
Will work
In me.
What will
The muse
Demand be her next
Child?
Only the blank canvas
Knows,
The rest of us,
Artist included,
Will have to wait
Until it is done.