restricted access April 1
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12 April 1 There is a new quality in the air, a sweet redolence from the first flowers and pungent odor of soil emerging from the thaw, that smell that spring passes under your nose to wake you again, more than wake you, stir you in such a way that you recall the irony that kills, the shadow in the drupe, the upswing on the ward. How strange you think at the time to think of your body as form, a cloud, while also knowing that it will clear into the blue. You laugh and a flower blooms beside a door that opens onto a darkness that is so vast no light can light it, that is the zero against which everything in this world is multiplied. deNiord text-2.indd 12 11/10/10 10:40 AM ...


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