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

117 Upon Hearing of a Friend’s Death (After Yeats) Reaching down the dark recesses Are pictures Grey skies lowering Prison walls Bursting lungs Stagnant rime Against all of these You gave respite You sheltered me from the screaming heavens I had thought Of more formal proferring Of thanks later Too late Now that you’ve beaten me to the light Gentle born of gentle clans One more lost of the so few Of the “old stock” I now walk silent among the busy crowds I cower under their collective might ...

Share