Sun

Somewhere, near the sun, in an orbit so tight it would be virtually impossible to see it because of the stunning glare of solar plumes, is the planet Vulcan, interior to Mercury, in the Vulcan zone. If it is not there, it should be.....the same way palm trees should be visible out my window and the smell of the ocean would be very welcome. Still, this is a wonderful turn of the Earth.

Light. As a feather. As a cinder. The brood cell is done, and I have stocked with a doll, a few clothes bearing skulls, a children's guide to Cthulu from an expert Demon.

Sparkles, like the sun off a tropical ocean, like LSD lights sending sunset remarks through closed blinds. Last year, about this time, the garden fragrant and fertile from Siva and Kali, decomposing everything, connecting me, human and mortal. A Sunflower Baphomet stared at us as we watched a candle burn and made wisecracks in a dark room, for hours.

This year, I urge to bury the city in sand just high enough to make people put out beach towels. I spy juvenile cardinals on the trees of our neighborhood and in our yard, clumsily foraging and making stupid decisions. Eumenid wasps have filled my drill holes with their own babies.

Sun. Old beast. Thank you.