void. As my father's breathing fails, an anguish revives- a sharp-edged stone in the throat. ... Those meals, in my youth, when the only sound one heard was the clink of porcelain serving dishes; the ... sidelong glances that hid the blushing of fleshly passion and my secret games in the bedroom; while the ...

Page from Issue 13-14 1926 My father touched his ear to the ribs of my mother and announced, as if ... mountain!" My mother hid under her hair, scary and pale: it was agony, holding her there by the forehead, ... tugging her back, without breathing the underground gases. My father lit a fire in the forest. She needed ...

Page 18 from Issue 47 Henry Plummer Oakley Hall 1 It is my intention to tell my tale as truthfully ... Kid," is thought to be the True and Real thing at last, but I believe that was thought of me also, in my ... pleased in my young days to be called "Holdfast," and sometimes "the Holdfast ...

a man 1 did not know. My mother and her maids had often said that it would be so- that little boys ... show the hour, 1 would be a man, they had said; and 1 nearly was. Seventeen, and my skin was toughening ... experience of the world, you see, though 1 had just enough to carry me along. My body was turning from ...

chilled vodka sliding its arctic snake down my throat. How nights trembled, seal entrails wetting snow ... scarves around our necks and I will cast my stare out from the window set at the cab's back, ... walking alone. I do not know your very pale eyes yet. Can I not sense my desire, as I move languid beneath ...