I don't know if this already has gotten alot of broadcast [via Hamilton? can't check that] but here goes: From: What the Woman Lived: The Selected Letters of Louise Bogan, ed. Ruth Limmer. Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1973. In November of '44, LB writes to William Maxwell: "This poor young man [Sgt. Salinger] has been bombarding me with poems for a week or so.--It now apppears that he is in France; so everything becomes more touching. I have written to him; but in these situations it is better if you write him too.--There isn't time to send them back to him; so will you write a note? P.S. They came Air Mail." A note for the young women [and others] out there: in addition to reviewing poetry books for The New Yorker for decades, as a poet, she was the real thing. Her poems can be found in a paperback edition put out by Ecco Press, titled: The Blue Estuaries: Poems 1923-1968. She lived from 1897-1970. Jesus, I nearly fell off my chair just now. While running my eye over Ruth Limmer's intro, I came across this: Her [LB] name was not a household word, and she did not want it to be: for most of her life she lived, wholly apart from literary cliques, on the upper reaches of Manhattan Island, where the slit beside the bell in her apartment house read "Holden." Back to JDS: A thought: how many people believe the "loose-leaf notebook inhabited by a hundred and eighty-four short poems" (written by Seymour during the last three years of his life) exists? Or, to put it more plainly, do you think JDS, in addition to more unpublished Glass Stories, *also* has been penning poems over these forty years, perhaps the poems of Seymour Glass? I vote yes.