The Sun by Gregory Corso

The sun is a rebel, a hero swinging higher than all thoughts, it intoxicates, udges the day from sleep, caresses the air with a smile.

It wears the economy of gold, that flaunts itself, balso magnificent, spitting fire and radiance, like a boy with a trumpet; this is the pulse of what we know, the wildness of existence in the primal scream.

The sun burns with certainty, feeding flame to the hungry, lighting paths of wanderers, as it spreads through blue horizons! Originally a gaseous thought, it now thrusts forward to unzip the night, rooting in the ground of dreams, This is not a tree, not a decay, it’s life mixing, a wild heat that matters.

• Gregory Corso