No Ideas

Don't be confused by the title of this post; I am certainly not out of ideas. Honestly, quite the opposite has been happening lately, and I couldn't be happier. But more on that later.

I've been looking forward to posting this piece since I wrote it, simply because I love it. It's not my best work or anything, but there's something about it that I'm really proud of, and I can't wait to share it with you.

It's another one of these prose poems that I hacked up and arranged into a "real" poem (no, I don't want to get into the prose poetry debate right now), because for some reason this is the style that has come out when I sit down to write lately. When I hack it up like this, I can focus on the collections of words that I really like and want to accent without having to dig through text blocks.
I wrote this poem less than a month ago, if I remember correctly. It means a lot to me, and there are moments in it that I really enjoy, and I hope you do too!

--

No Ideas

I thought her skin on mine would save me, but it was

her mind on a paintbrush that woke me. Her heart was on

the page of a used book and I think

she might be the most beautiful girl in the world.

She is the most beautiful girl in the world.

And she has no idea.

Fresh air, crisp night, her art.

A brush hangs from between her teeth, resting on soft lips,

and she has no idea.

(She came over to me again and rested her head on my shoulder. She was smirking. I swear she could hear the cardiovibration in my chest; I like to think she did, at least. And before I could catch my breath, she was back on the floor conjuring colours to her will once more, and yes I used that spelling on purpose.)

She makes me want to draw creatures that do not exist and

name them after her movements and sounds—

her sighs and her shrugs, her screams and

her smiles. Her smiles

alone would be a race all its own.

These monsters aren’t really monsters at all. But we have no idea.

I would draw her if I could,

or take a photograph,

but I have no concept of lighting. I have no idea. Then again

the world has seemed dimmer since I first saw her smile.

She sits on the floor in her pajamas,

glowing. My emotion should be tangible.

The heat from my bloodflow should have ignited me.

But I am unnoticed,

my clothes dirty, and two fans

are blowing into bloodshot eyes.

And she has no idea.

--

One last thing before I post this: I won't be posting any new writing next week, but will instead be writing a regular blog post about some updates and such. There are exciting things happening in my life and I look forward to sharing them with you.

love.

Adam