Untimely alone. Where are the clothes I wore? The South Wellfleet Inn comes shuffling down Is this the door I came in before? Sweet Christ, Edwin you’re dressed already in your union blue. I’m in here with these industrial screws down the woodland steps a woman’s torso naked and bruised. There is not a chair…
I ought to have a good opinion of myself but from my unlucky education I cannot get rid of a mean timidity as to my own worth. I was very genteelly lodged. And then the century garbage: full of prying, deceitful, hateful people named geikie, bailie, ritchie or some other name It ends in -ie…
The blue breeze spins In near-still swirls Away from land. A gull lifts off The dull brown pier, Then works its wings And scales itself In sidelong glide Downwind, down wind Alone, black-tipped Wings its way up Through a soft scale Like a mild dream Balanced on sleep. Then, blood-beak poised On molecules Of sea…
The Great Dance, the Yu step “performed the Great Bear” or did those stars, into the midst of us, feeling us out to know the power. Exousia. Feeling the ground out step by step to know what sort of earth our senses made us (casting…
EDITORIAL BOARD Publisher Peter O'Malley Coordinating Editor George Kimball Editorial Staff William Corbett David Gullette DeWitt Henry Norman Klein Contributing Editors Sam Cornish Aram Saroyan Art Director David Omar White Business Manager Tom Hargadon Advertising Manager Richard H. Brown CONTRIBUTORS DESMOND O'GRADY, born 1935, is a major Irish poet living in Rome; among his many…
a play in two acts (Note: each act should take five minutes to perform, with exaggerated silences between speeches: during that time son and father age from a respective five and thirty to twenty and forty-five. Their activities on stage will therefore change appropriately.) ACT I FATHER (somberly): I am giving you the ball, son,…
Some drunkards drink themselves as sober as this liar lied herself true. I lied to my parents about where I'd been. To my boss about where I was going. To my friends about my past – creating accomplishments, creating failures, denying experiences, admitting fantasties. To strangers I was one of quadruplets, an orphan, a twin,…
Let us remember that unsung breed who send my likes to you – wisely: Van Elliott, Bert Kelsey, Fred Weed of Roxbury Latin; and the likes of Feathereye Mykey my uncle did so unknowingly. Let me remember thresholds left here to cross yours there; remember the clutter of the place that’s Feathereye’s junkshop where I…
Doyle's reflection scintillated wetly from the shop windows as he passed along the Boulevard du Montparnasse without pausing, as he frequently did, in front of one of Hemingway's old haunts – the Coupole or, across the street, the Dome. He turned right on the Boulevard Raspail and walked slowly, nearly shuffling, toward L'alliance Francaise and…
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