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Frederick Bock

Spring 1963


By Frederick Bock

Frederick Bock STOCK Whom he muzzled-Grandpa-before her, Honored with invitations to his den, Hand on elktooth, hat in hand, I could imagine without the family-wise Hazy fugacities, pious exclamations: Forest […]

Spring 1964

Miss Jack

By Frederick Bock

Looped brown damask sequestering a face That never disliked lilacs, the draped Windows may close at a touch—of wind, perhaps, From wherever spring is benign. So it is Hard to […]