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Winter 1960 • Vol. XXII No. 1 • Poetry |

Goya

By Irving Feldman

I. Man

The soldiers bear a sack,
A white sack without a tear;
The soldiers are in black.
For the rest, the plain is bare.
And what else should be there!

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Movietime

By Irving Feldman

They can't wait. ("We couldn't wait," they'll say.) And that's not the only thing the lovers can't do. They seem unable to get their clothes off in time, or to […]

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In Old San Juan

By Irving Feldman

l've come to visit Doña Trina,to pay respects and receive my blessing.At the kitchen table under the great clockwhere an elegy is always ticking,this is me sitting mute in the […]

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