Sulphur River Spring 1980 [antikvár]

Red Storm for Chris Burkholder You are llving now in the calm eye of a red storm. Túrning your brush inside out, risking your heart, you hang suspended on wire; red corpuscles exposed in a gallery of blind parrots. The wire is cut, corpuscles spill on the floor turn outside in, again; parrots dashed on a vacant wall, only the frame is damaged. The heart lives on alone, framed around tree tree against stone, in the calm eye of a red storm. Night hollows out to a blue vein, and I hear your soft brush bleeding green pears of protest on air. Mary Twohig