Spring 1999

Number 24

Fred Turner on
Presidential Prurience

Richard Moore on Patriarchy

Bruce Bennett's Elegy
On Light Verse

Featured Poet: G.N. Gabbard



Venice in winter: the sea is gray.
The reds and golds are pale and drained.
The flat stones of its huge square
are slick and dark after it has rained.

Across a bridge a lonely walker
bundle in hand, hurries home.
He meets no one, and seems oblivious
of balcony, tower and dome.

Free from people, heat and thieves
its ghosts can come alive at noon:
Aschenbach sits down at a table
and stirs a tall drink with a spoon.

                  ED ROSSMANN




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