I splashed some colores from a tumbler


                                                               and smeared the drab world with emotion.


                                                                                        I charted on a dish of jelly                                                           


                                                                         the jutting cheekbones of the ocean.





Upon the scales of tin salmon


I read the calls of lips yet mute.


And you, could you have played a nocturne


with just a drainpipe for a flute?