I found the phrase to every thought
phrase to every thought
Dickinson claims she can articulate almost everything she thinks—except one thing. The poem is about that exception.
chalk the sun
Trying to draw sunlight with chalk on a board. The absurdity is the point—some experiences can't be translated into available materials.
cochineal
Red dye made from crushed insects. She's asking: can you paint fire with red powder? Can you paint noon with blue?
mazarin
Deep blue, named for Cardinal Mazarin. The question is rhetorical—you can't capture noon's brightness with a dark blue pigment.