pdf download - Westerly Magazine
pdf download - Westerly Magazine pdf download - Westerly Magazine
ANDREW TAYLORSpringSpring is a diverse country.In movies it's invariably loveand soft focus and lots of apres winter coloursand slow motion, slow "springing" motionas lovers, for a moment, defy gravity.For others spring is hay fever,the onset of a sinusitis so severethat the chills, torments and snows of yesteryearwould be welcome relief.Every flowerblooming innocently by the waysideis poisonous, every perfumed breezecarries its murderous allergens unseenbut straight to the nerve.For me though spring is two things -the fIrst basil seedlings at the marketand blossom. They come in a complex order.In midwinter almonds blossom and I say"Spring's here already." Then follows- always - the bleakest, dreariest August.Almonds are winter flowers, deceptive, subtle,but also stirrers of hope.After the gloom, the abysmal drops in temperature,other blossoms come. And abruptlyplum and flowering apple take overthe garden. I leave the plum blossoms untouchedmentally decimating them into our harvestof fruit. That's whenthe fIrst basil seedlings should appear at the market.28WESTERLY, No.2, JUNE, 1989
For weeks I've interrogated the look-alikecapsicums, pinching them for smell."Next weekend" she told me and thoughI don't believe her I ask again today.She hands me a punnet of pure scent,and I cradle the puny dicotyledonssmelling already the pungent heat of summer,recalling the last of it still storedin the freezer, my home-made pesto.When I get home it's dark. The appletreeflares in the streetlight, its sterile bloomshave climbed a metre in the day's heat.Time to prune it. I hackin the serni-dark the delicious slipsand their burden of blossom. They shaketheir pink and white hail onto my hairover my face, into my eyes. I'm blindedby pruning and I bear my prizes insideshaking like a bear newly wakenedto search for vases, jugs, water glassesfor the cut stems. They're fountainsvertical gardens, for three daystrees will inhabit the house."Oh God," you say, coming hometo my spring industry. The table'sa dissecting chamber of lopped limbsand the floor's awash with petals (I'd meantto sweep up before you arrived.) "Oh God"you repeat, "it's so beautiful."WESTERLY, No.2, JUNE, 1989 29
- 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 18 and 19: So thus I lie here fearful of movem
- 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 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
- Page 68 and 69: (At twenty eight you did not bother
- Page 70 and 71: left, would have risen and walked o
- Page 72 and 73: He had hair like mine used to be, t
- Page 74 and 75: OLIVE PELLThe QuestionTell me how t
- Page 76 and 77: BRIAN MOONANAT 515: MASS LECTURE Th
- Page 78 and 79: PETER KIRKPATRICKTear HereThe bay i
For weeks I've interrogated the look-alikecapsicums, pinching them for smell."Next weekend" she told me and thoughI don't believe her I ask again today.She hands me a punnet of pure scent,and I cradle the puny dicotyledonssmelling already the pungent heat of summer,recalling the last of it still storedin the freezer, my home-made pesto.When I get home it's dark. The appletreeflares in the streetlight, its sterile bloomshave climbed a metre in the day's heat.Time to prune it. I hackin the serni-dark the delicious slipsand their burden of blossom. They shaketheir pink and white hail onto my hairover my face, into my eyes. I'm blindedby pruning and I bear my prizes insideshaking like a bear newly wakenedto search for vases, jugs, water glassesfor the cut stems. They're fountainsvertical gardens, for three daystrees will inhabit the house."Oh God," you say, coming hometo my spring industry. The table'sa dissecting chamber of lopped limbsand the floor's awash with petals (I'd meantto sweep up before you arrived.) "Oh God"you repeat, "it's so beautiful."WESTERLY, No.2, JUNE, 1989 29
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