What Colors Do You Breathe
I inhale a rainbow.
And I exhale a blue language
of nouns and verbs.
My syntax
frozen in the stratosphere
high above the observatory, inside a cloud straddling
Mauna Kea.
I am in search of dynamic metaphors
while observing the stars shooting across the heavens.
My clauses are swirling sunlight down behind the waterfalls
over and through the cracks and crevices of black and gold
lava flows, hardened by decades of cooling
now joined by violet joy bushes
and a profusion of bright green tree ferns
still erupting into red phrases
congealing into the deep blue Pacific
with fiery tongues ablaze.
