I lept out of bed at a quarter to four, after lying awake with visions of large luminous heavenly bodies.
I threw on my glamorous thrift store parka and jeans and crept out of the apartment.
Not a soul on the street. Where was the moon? There. Over the sea, to the West.
I crossed the Great Highway as a single car sped past.
I clambered down the disintegrating sand cliff to the beach. I wouldn’t be able to return by the way I came.
Where was the ocean? Where were the waves? I’d never seen the tide so low.
Way off in the distance, summoned by the Moon to enthrone and enhance her, the waves were barely breaking.
On the horizon, which shone like molten silver, dark mountain crests rolled against the sky.
I kept walking on the flat wet disc of sand, staring at the great white disc of light, veiling and unveiling as charcoal fog moved over her face.
The Moon conjunct Pluto. What did it mean?
I was alone on the shore, staring at a lunar landscape, black and white and every shade of wet metallic gray.
The world in negative, the Underworld, the Otherworld, glimpsed miraculously on Earth.