i’m still thin and high on having the biopsy negative tho i don’t know where to go after the artists place in the trees The husband who will leave and leave until he can’t come home is back after the first time pleading lyn his nagging is a sticky lullaby i almost don’t hear thru…
He stood in the shadows as usual, as Charlotte had come to expect. He was a part, by now, of the quiet late afternoon street that gathered her in when the working day was over. It was dusk, early spring. The air was warmish, and as Charlotte rounded the corner she could smell the honeysuckle,…
Killing anything was pure accident. A dumb stalker, a worse shot—I went almost daily, to the woods. A favorite prey was slow and shallow: a brook. I’d say, as it moved languidly: Don’t move, you rascal! And when it did, of course, as it does, I’d shoot. I liked that: no wound, or at least…
First, let us move away, but leave behind us The grand piano, the Steuben glass, books and Phonograph records, what might distract us, And since this is a real journey—surrounded By stars and their shadows and what is beyond Them—we will not travel. We sit all day and night and watch the moths Eat our…
During the winter of 1955, Chris took courses at Columbia. He came from Indianapolis; New York stunned him. Knowing nothing, he took a room in a railroad flat uptown near school: one room, 11 x 7, bed with a defeated mattress. It was cheap, and he could use the kitchen along with the three other…
An especially forlorn specimen Answers a marriage ad On a street of compulsory misfortune One drizzly November afternoon Sorrow with its sidekicks and damsels In a diningroom with a pianola which the subway rattles from time to time A cup of tea with her eyelash floating in it Cakes the size and color of a…
Little lady of the Welcome Wagon in the suburb I now call home, I waited eight months to hear your voice chirping across my telephone, and when you came, and when you came, I heard your wings flap you away before I could reach my door to see what love sent you here, and why….
MASTHEAD Directors DeWitt Henry Peter O'Malley Coordinating Editor for This Issue Jane Shore Associate Poetry Editor James Richardson Editor for Fiction Supplement DeWitt Henry Associate Fiction Editors John Domini David Gullette James Randall Ellen Wilbur CONTRIBUTORS TOM ABSHER teaches in the Adult Degree Program at Goddard College and was awarded an NEA fellowship in 1976….
With its boarded-up windows At the end of a dead-end street, In the dead of winter, A huge, grim institution I return to, I have unfinished Business to complete With its night-nurses, And other shadowy hirelings. * * * At daybreak, darkly, When the doors of its emergency entrance Flap across The line of vision, From…
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