Issue 31, Winter-Spring 1964
But if, after so many droning days,
You try to imagine a quiet country
Under the soft crush of the tide,
You’ll be deceived.
Leinbach discovered death does not exist.
At the last moment, when the undertow
Holds, and a pink foam
Bubbles inside your throat: when you are dragged and
In a tight spiral, you will remember
A restless summer in Montclair,
Sunlight dying in a room,