ISSUE: Spring 1969
What did he say, coming out of that cave
After a hundred forty days, and the world
Still skipping past the stars, the sun
Still singing? Was all this bewildering,
After the slow beating of that huge granite?
Did that cavern still surround him
As he stood there, blinking at the cameras,
Growing once more native to the light?
What did he see, down there? Had darkness
Closed upon him, hard as love, to find
His limit, bend the borders of the man,
This gaudy resurrection weak, insipid
Against that weight? Was this his truth,
Gone down for, wrested of that silence,
No one to share but the rock, the eyeless fish?
What question could they ask, to reach him
By the nameless rivers of those depths?
