>(apologies for cross-posting)
>
>Is Sulfur magazine still published out of Eastern Michigan University at
>the euphoniously-named Ypsilanti, does anyone know?
>
>Dave
Just a couple of months ago Sulfur published its final issue, a big number
with contributions from many of its contributors over the years and all of
its contributing editors, etc. That would be 45/46 Spring 2000. The
magazine stops now because Clayton Eshleman is almost 65 and feels he
deserves time to work on his own poems exclusively, having spent now almost
30 years on 2 literary magazines (Caterpillar the other) and translating
and so on. It's worth having--C Middleton, Allen Fisher, and P Redgrove
among the British contributors but of course it goes well beyond that:
Artaud, Baraka, Dao, Celan, Blaser, Cesaire, Char, Duncan, Deguy, Coolidge,
Davidson, Fraser, Guest, Golub, Irby, Hollo, Jabes, Joris, Kelly, Lansing,
Linh Dinh, Lima, Mackey, Matsutani, Mac Low, Metcalf, Nedjar, C Olson,
Niedecker, Padgett, Palmer, Rich, Taggart, Vallejo, Waldrop, Witkin, etc.
I'm particularly charmed by Jed Rasula's funny poem for the final number,
"Last Words," the beginning of which I'll type in here.
Moose. . .Indian. . .
Cough, snow.
Water.
Light, all light.
More light!
Mozart.
Tristan.
On the ground.
On the contrary.
Stop. . .Turn home. . . I'm bored.
So little done. So much to do.
So this is death--well.
Well, if it must be so.
What does it signify?
Why, what does this mean?
Does anybody understand?
Is it the fourth?
The flames _already_?
The sun is god!
I see the black light!
I have opened it.
I can't sleep.
I am absolutely undone.
I am what I am, I am what I am.
This is it. I'm going, I'm going.
The world is bobbing around.
Get my "Swan" costume ready.
I am seeing things that you know nothing of.
I am going to seek the great perhaps.
It is very beautiful over there.
God bless Captain Vere.
I am dying, as I have lived, beyond my means.
Let me have my own fidgets.
I think I feel a little joyful, dearest.
And now I am officially dead.
I am continuing to orbit.
I am about to--or I am going to--die: either expression is used.
I feel nothing except a certain difficulty in continuing to exist.
I am about the extent of a tenth of a gnat's eyebrow better.
and it has another 20 or so lines I don't have time to type and ends with a
bang, etc. The magazine can be had via SPD in Berkeley or direct from
Eshleman, c/o Sulfur, English Department, Eastern Michigan U, Ypsilanti MI
48197. $15.
And on that note I'm outta here for a week.
Keith
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