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David Cornel DeJong

Summer 1958

The Drowning

By David Cornel DeJong

The old people were standing in a self-protecting group Ion the small triangle of beach. After all, this portion had been designated as their beach. Yet they seemed to be […]

Winter 1948


By David Cornel DeJong

Of Eloise, the tall, sweet breasted one, now polished off between sleek Buick and rusty Pontiac on the giraffe spotted avenue, this is a song and a memory. She clutched […]

Summer 1945

Sentimental Theme

By David Cornel DeJong

Frankly, Mother, we have fed you always aconiteand antimony, but our best behaviors sat byat the table in those polite years whereofwe had gladly composed a commensurate sonnet,but lacked the […]