To Sun

     I was pissing by a full grown oak in our backyard. It's sunny and cold. I look up east toward the sun. 

A vulture sits on a high bare branch, wings open, sunning.

The shadow of death confronts. My speaking elephant brains - overwhelms, deranges, disgusts, discusses.

I think of photographing with my cellular telephone's camera, then 'I got my memory.' I put my penis away, drip drops, jog towards the back door, hear vultures beautifully, beatifically beat the air with wondrous wings.

I turn to look.

The End

get right the light

I thought

I can use words to

- .

I can try.