Forward

Like the mixing of a painter's palette

above my head another dawn sets,

black and blue sky like the ink of a pen

brushed away like a veiled curtain

I taste salt and fish in my mouth

as my eyes turn away from the north and south

and welcome paper white winds on my cheeks

against my fingers, they feel hard as seeds 

I hear the melody of daffodils waltzing,

in prisms, the leaves begin gliding 

as the grass bends like a smile in the east

I breathe gunpowder, raise my head above a sea

of ideas simmering in my chest like fireworks.

as my champagne lips welcome January 1st.