I am very small and very afraid. Small things recognize large things because they are likely near, and can eat them. I present the large things. All love and no bullshit. All my suns are bipedal. There is only love and the fear that the love will leave. I try to make the world as deep and mysterious as the zeal and fury of my feelings would imply that it is. When one is small and afraid they push very hard to do things that they cannot do. Like, ensure the staying of their suns, absolve their sins, enjoy the chaos...Think of it like witchcraft, call it also, Pet Sematary. I grieve the moments I have felt deeply, and that they have felt deeply. ‘They’ being, the people that I am derivative of but, not quite adjacent to. You know, my mother’s mother. My father’s father. Call them also, dinosaurs. My bipedal suns. I dug up the moments and resurrected them - by pressing very hard. I made us adjacent, with sharp edges and glue and belief perseverance. And I make shrines to people I love the way people sacrifice beating hearts to fickle gods, by way of an apology. As if to say, please keep loving me, I know that it is hard because I am so small. Take the paper, I pressed all my fingers to it before leaving it there for you. Take the colors, I filtered them through my cosmos of feelings so that now I cannot close my eyes without seeing them. I looked at Hokusai and Hiroshige, felt my Japanese grandmother in their mountains, and felt every earthquake from very far away. I looked at Romare Bearden’s work, saw in them the scope of my other grandmother’s hips, and felt every earthquake from very far away. Everything here is done in an attempt to collapse time from a tsunami into a tide that allows me to float beside all the buried moments: me, my suns, all of our fierce, dead moments: together forever. If only because I believed in it so much. Entropy does not live here.