Overblown, bombastic, yet often powerful, these prose poems and a play, by a veteran radio writer, deal with the Atomic World and the Bomb. Their weakness may be chiefly attributed to professional slickness and extreme wrath; their strength stems from the same sources. For at least they weld ire, information and technical word-skill into some fairly splendid rhetoric about life and love vs. the horrors of total destruction with a precision and energy lacking in many finer poets. At worst they overstep into bad taste. But then, the subject is not tasteful and one which few poets have attacked directly. Despite many faults, this is a commendable attempt to say something direct and real and even its failure is part of its considerable shock value. Mr. Corwin's glibness is part of our civilization; one wishes that the occasional fine flights of his poetry and his genuine anger were too.