Sulfur 9: A Literary Tri-Quarterly of the Whole Art

“I am so full of everything,” reconcile its loss, letting go in time. but to see a dark thing come out of spring ’s calyx open & upside down (you’d have to leap up & touch) the flower at the top of an arch, pure white alabaster texture, look down & hear the cries of the world. Flung now vermillion fins drive sun’s shaft where standing lost in thought she fills a (recrudescent) terra cotta globe, light’s language thrown flat on water re-minding an old dimension, swift flight toward fall. Those colors peripheral as silence behind sound plunge words down where she can measure limits of (that) vision & go around it