My eyes, colorless before evolution,
enhance with fused reds, like
books, like laughter.
I smell of fall. I learn of growth,
of death. Death; when my mind
will rise up like sun and surround
this body, bathing it in orange scent.

Thunder passes.
Looking up, my mind
grows from the heart of
this ground. Blue reflects
water falling through
seasons changing.
Brown, like boiling sugar.
Yellow, like light from this mouth.
I smell words more green
than plush—they soften
me into growth, and
I enlarge.


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