“I sneeze snot vapors out into the moon-lit
starry night and I swear there is a glistening
beauty in it.” From my journal.

I sneeze snot vapors out into the dark
world lit by a low rising moon. My eyes
squint at the way the light is split,
hanging in the air glistening in colors.

The vapors congregate, strengthened by the
timid wind, swirling around each other
in miniature hurricanes. Greasy colors
intensify in liquid drops of self-made oil.

The autumn colors droop, dangling in front
of my nose, so saturated with playfulness,
empty night re-drawn with tiny sunsets.
Beauty so compelling, unexpected, there.

My arms frozen to the ground, I can’t reach
out to the sky, can’t touch the scattered
drops of color painted against the starry sky
like a pocket universe of life, color and light.

My head inches forward, my tongue reaches up
to taste the beauty the life the colors;
immediately it retreats to my mouth in cover –
recoils at the bitterness, the sweet bitter

world of its own creation. I draw a wolf’s breath
and blow against the splattered universe, destroy
each color in the storm of my terrible breath,
adjust my eyes, smile at the black and white night.