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

94 f r o m t e n t m a k i n g t h e s e v e r y f e e t A spring stars-just-out nine-thirty when I was five, or four, before school, that fear, before clothes, I step from my bath, am held in the big towel, then leap out to the front porch and through the screen door along the curve of boxwood, through the tower, down its flight of three steps, next flight next and next to the open ocean of the quadrangle. It does not seem like I am running, rather more a thought sails into the night, the idea of nakedness and Blakean joy, with my parents and older brother close in pursuit laughing and finally reaching and snaring the fleeing figure back to pajamas and bedroom, but these fleet, insouciant feet remember nothing of that. They became evening air and a bit of sky calmly taking another kind of bath, with no telling how began their adoration of moss in the cool brick walk. ...

Share