Summer 1945 • Vol. VII No. 3 FictionJuly 1, 1945 |

Breathe upon These Slain

For Dick and Donny and Bill Barney began to run, cutting into the thicket, following a zig-zag course, crashing through the foliage which became almost impassable and seemed to hold his legs, catch his arms, wind about his head. He heard firing now advancing upon him from two directions. He climbed frantically amongst the roots, clawing them away with his bare hands. Slim . . . he cried out soundless on his swift breath. Slim, don’t die now, don’t leave me now. He could feel the grief of his life in his whole body as he dragged his face along the earth, setting his knees in the uncertain filth. In bitterness and grief he pressed against the old and humid and filthy earth, and intermittently its fragrance and the health of its death thrust into his nostrils; he pressed his arms, his thighs against it in blind thirst, as he had never held a woman to him for love or safety. Sensually he dug his palms into it and pressed his knees into it crying Slim Slim . . . the only man wh

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Gone Home

By Meridel Le Sueur

For Dick and Donny and Bill Barney began to run, cutting into the thicket, following a zig-zag course, crashing through the foliage which became almost impassable and seemed to hold […]

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