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

yes but that dog won’t chew his foot off he’s barking at himself he won’t let me near. I left him. 1945 A year in the Pacific watching his pilots not come back to the ship —they were nineteen, twenty, they called him “Pop” . . . We lived for the day he came back. The day he came back he raged like Achilles the day the year years we flew off one off a bridge one into a book one a note into a bottle we never came back. —Oh my dead father —Ah Jeanie, you’re still in words . . . the cradle of the real life 253 ...

Share