Winter 1958 • Vol. XX No. 1 Poetry |

A City

The pink stuff of snails is evidently strapped by a great doom, which accounts for the voided shells millioning the seabeaches: dumb whorls to the waves, a city of fled houses, seas and abrasive sands recovering structures.

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Mishap

By R. S. Patton

The pink stuff of snails is evidently strapped by a great doom, which accounts for the voided shells millioning the seabeaches: dumb whorls to the waves, a city of fled […]

For Hart

By R. S. Patton

The pink stuff of snails is evidently strapped by a great doom, which accounts for the voided shells millioning the seabeaches: dumb whorls to the waves, a city of fled […]

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