“…Here the unbound
fields, white flags of surrender, unanchored blossoms,
apple under a veil of arabesques, the red and white lines
of a blank staff whose notes have flown like great birds
still hovering, a flutter of leaves, still vibrato, still
dervish, sleep sink and float, not yet the doorway, not yet
the pull and drag of the body out of the other-ocean.”
Read the entire poem at Boulevard Magazine.