Blog @ Work

Imagination is the name of the house my Muse lives in. It is the dwelling from which she operates. She has the key to the door so I can enter at her will. It is an obscure building somewhere between Birth and Infinity. It only contains of one room in which all things imaginable can appear or disappear. Outside is inside; the possibilities are limitless as far as she is concerned. All colors are there, although the main furniture is brown with green. It is a sealed off room without any windows, there are bars at the door to keep it private, for my eyes only. Weeds, grasses, and flowers are growing in front of the house, recognizable, so I would find it no matter what. I hope my mood, my brain, and my senses will allow me to visit every day. If I can’t find the directions to the house for some reason, and there have been reasons in the past, I am devastated. Finding my Muse’s house, finding Imagination, is necessary for me. It is the fix to my addiction, it is the place I love being. It is my mind’s eye.

Arranging furniture can be like arranging words, dressing up the rooms, making it feel like home, a place you want to be. Poems are like little bits of furniture you take inside, you arrange words, add meaning, pimp up the appearances with color and scented flowers as in adverbs and adjectives. When you are finished you can proudly look at it and enjoy your work.