In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

21 “April is the cruellest month . . .” If Eliot’s April is the cruellest month and Chaucer’s showers sweet drop acid rain and every other moon that earthlings meet radioactivates the harvest grain, while planes and sunburnt soldiers aim to blow quivering bodies into acrid dust thickening air for eons that remind how history repeats its failed trust, greed and vengeance grind their rituals into the backs of people whom they hit, reap fiery profits from the rudest graves. Any month is what you make of it. ...

Share