So thus I lie here fearful of movement,my mind clamorous and hourly being beaten backinto this space, walled enclosure of weathered woodboardwhich, nailed to supports for a leaky roof,defines this ward. It is a nursery of strangeand swaddled lives, newly cut and created,having to be coaxed into quiescence by each of us in placein this double row of steel beds behind cloth screens.Beneath the covers, my wet underclothingcleaves to thigh and groin, and on the bed-sidetable left unopened, my dog-eared Crusoe.Out of each unquiet nightthere grows a sense that I am but remnantcast up from another life, nothing that is whollyman, thrown up log-like, upon the beach, this bed.I wonder if one at least among my childrenmooning at visiting hour about my bedhas not already seen me thus - being hauled Intoward the shore in the tangled long netswith the fish. I wonder if he was not disturbedas the mud-yellow blotched skin emergedfrom the tides, then the full form, inertand being pulled in slowly without a fight.A touch of dying algae rises from the pillowspiled high to ease my back . . .Image of her face was once enough to serveas promise that I would transcend all anxiety,all pain, all that in my life was merely trivial,that wholly through the senses I might finda breach in the division that standsbetween a heaven and an earth. Six yearsof marriage reduced her to bone and parchmentbled her of what she had been for children that she bore,live ones and dead. I was open once moreto bait, laced with scent of younger skin, younger flesh,I who had for her foresworn all prostitutesall wayward, unprotected women.Here now I lie . . . and watch myselfdaily being mixed deep into body's change,water into soft earth, becoming sludge. I may yetlabour through suppuration of the flesh,skin's discoloration, swelling at the ankleor the face, the mess that comes from mindor the bowels going slack . . . and see no signin this travail pointing to another kind of birth.These must be the resolution of my acts, my end.16WESTERLY, No.2, JUNE, 1989
Now I am caught out at last, to be dragged pig-likeout of the wallow. I would that I may just leave,go with all the chaos unresolved, carried within,dreams I dare not face of the brood I will leaveuntended, and unlike the others who have gone before,hold all deep down, with it, my terror.I must not squeal too piteously at the rough blowfrom the hook as it is pulled hard against the throatto snap me back, the terrible weightthat presses upon haunch and back to keep me downand sure strength of hand that has in itthe sharpened knife.Peter Lang Publishers is initiating a new series entitledSTUDIES OF WORLD LITERATUREIN ENGLISHThe series will encompass criticism of modern English-languageliterature from outside the United States, Great Britain and Ireland -literature by writers from Canada, Africa, Asia, the Pacific and theCaribbean. Submissions are invited concerning fiction, poetry, dramaand literary theory.Enquiries should be addressed to:Norman R. CaryProfessor of EnglishDepartment of English Language and LiteratureWright State UniversityDayton, Ohio 45435U.S.A.WESTERLY, No.2, JUNE, 1989 17
- Page 3 and 4: CONTENTSWESTERLYVOLUME 34, No.2, JU
- Page 5: WESTERLYa quarterly reviewISSN 0043
- Page 8 and 9: JAN KEMPTo My Father, M.H.K.My fath
- Page 10 and 11: JAN KEMPThe GypsySuddenly before yo
- Page 12 and 13: WONG PHUI NAMA Death in the WardThe
- Page 14 and 15: WONG PHUI NAMCousinI had to call to
- Page 16 and 17: WONG PHUI NAMObitIt is as thin smok
- Page 20 and 21: VIRGINIA BERNARDA ValedictionWhen N
- Page 22 and 23: "Yeah, yeah," I call, returning the
- Page 24 and 25: she flops for a bit, slurps her tea
- Page 26 and 27: well her students did, she was neve
- Page 28 and 29: English or Indian, that they had th
- Page 30 and 31: ANDREW TAYLORSpringSpring is a dive
- Page 32 and 33: CAROL SElTZERAiming for the MouthTr
- Page 34 and 35: GRAEME WILSONA Selection of Japanes
- Page 36 and 37: a highly ambivalent attitude to his
- Page 38 and 39: Esson attended some rehearsals of T
- Page 40 and 41: the literary life of Bloomsbury. Lo
- Page 42 and 43: Without Yeats Esson would quite lik
- Page 44 and 45: "What theatre do you have in Austra
- Page 46 and 47: In the back room Esson could feel t
- Page 48 and 49: "When we started our little theatre
- Page 50 and 51: a screen against a wall. A theatre
- Page 52 and 53: VINCENT O'SULLIVANSinging Mastery:
- Page 54 and 55: flighty relation in most statements
- Page 56 and 57: living and the dead; that places hi
- Page 58 and 59: quite diverse traditions towards th
- Page 60 and 61: WARRICK WYNNEThe Wetlands (for Liam
- Page 62 and 63: JAN OWENSmileOur mother aimed the b
- Page 64 and 65: RICHARD KELLY TIPPINGOlympic Airway
- Page 66 and 67: DAVID REITERBear by the Jasper Road
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(At twenty eight you did not bother
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left, would have risen and walked o
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He had hair like mine used to be, t
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OLIVE PELLThe QuestionTell me how t
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BRIAN MOONANAT 515: MASS LECTURE Th
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PETER KIRKPATRICKTear HereThe bay i
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JOHN WINTERThe Bird ManIn wooded, p
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KNUTE SKINNERAugust 15There's a lig
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M.E. PATTI WALKERThe Hook"Aren't yo
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QMNQMNQMNQMNapartheid man, this is
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QMNQMNQMNeasy because you don't bel
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lands or which have been taken over
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GEOFF GOODFELLOWToo MuchDianne is 1
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SHANE McCAULEYSouth Fremantle, Summ
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JEAN KENTWaiting Out the DroughtWai
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STEPHEN MAGEEJesus Falls, South Aus
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SIMON BROWNBlue Hole, Santothe colo
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CONAL FITZPATRICKA Brown Dog, Off A
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PAUL HETHERINGTONOne RoomIn teeming
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society, or, in the terms of the my
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emphasised (I think) in the referen
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Summer Leaves". This continues the
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Deficiency Bill in Western Australi
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invocation of pastoral near the beg
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particularly dreaded). The final re
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VINCENT O'SULLIVAN - is one of New