Poetry
Spring 1951
Palermo, Mother’s Day, 1943
Among those who promised us our honors, Someone said we'd killed a hundred each; And since our knowledge of events was vague, We used the digits in our dim additions: […]
Poetry
Spring 1951
Third Anniversary Poem
There is a bitter beast living In my back and belly, And most of all he is given To feeding himself in the holy Hive and hinge of my groin; […]