From this Issue
Poem
My mother’s lamp once out,
I press a different switch:
A field within the dim
White screen ignites,
vibrating to the rapt
Mechanical racket
Of a real noon field’s
Crickets and gnats.
And to its candid heart
I move with heart ajar,
With eyes that smart less
From pollen or heat
Than...
I press a different switch:
A field within the dim
White screen ignites,
vibrating to the rapt
Mechanical racket
Of a real noon field’s
Crickets and gnats.
And to its candid heart
I move with heart ajar,
With eyes that smart less
From pollen or heat
Than...
Table of Contents
- James Merrill
- Marie Ponsot
- Richard Hugo
- Ann Stanford
- Bruce Berlind
- Philip Levine
- Robert Stock
- Roy Basler
- Frederick Eckman
- Robert Hazel
- William E. Stafford
Comment
- Josephine Jacobsen
- Robert S. Sward
- Frank O. Copley
CONTRIBUTORS
