Word: castrato
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Besides these three stories the rest of the issue doesn't seem to matter so much. I think the best thing to say about Jonathan Kozol's little piece of satanism is that he has given his people wonderful names: Brubeck, Euclid, Castrato. The poetry in the issue is almost uniformly hard to remember. In the best of the lot, Epitaph for a Young Athlete, F. L. Seidel clothes his single small joke in pretentious language. While the only image of David Ferry's The Late Hour Poem is more ludicrous than striking, Nina Castelli's The Coquette concludes, with...