pdf download - Westerly Magazine
pdf download - Westerly Magazine pdf download - Westerly Magazine
JOHN WINTERThe Bird ManIn wooded, pitted, Lawrence country,Our windows stayed always open:Robin, chaffmch, thrush and woodcockFed daily from our table.Our sideboard gathered droppingsAs proud neighbours' never gathered dust.No bathroom ever stank as oursWhen butcherbirds hung their prey.In twilight evenings you gathered friendsTo sit and talk of birds, always birds.Old Matt the poacher satWith Detective-Sergeant Brand -The lion and the lamb.(But who was lion, who was lamb,When each had lost an eye to shot?)I sat beneath the stuffed white owlsListening to Bevis read as slowAs all those birds must have died.I grew to hate your crueltyAs much as the love you gaveTo anything that flew.You gave nothing to our mother,Save intimations of life's meaningFound in pits of rooks' stomachs.Once only did I love you:High in rheumatic fever,Your collier's arms held meThree black shifts through.Now, forty pheasant-seasons later,Brought blind to this new landWhere every bird's accent puzzles you,Longing for the beat of wings under eaves,You let me carry you, child-light,In silence to your bed, your last kickA refusal to die on anything but feathers.78WESTERLY, No.2, JUNE, 1989
JOHN WINTERPrinting James McAuleyduring the Falklands WarFirst proof, first revise:Set flush left, flush right,Your prose moves neitherLeft nor right, but drivesStraight down the pageInto the world-river ofBlack on white.Tonight we print letterpress.Grey compromise of lithoThat keeps your meaning on the surface,Jumble of serifs forced byMagnetic impulse into hasty marriage,Do not suit your clarity.As the saw cuts deepTo mitre raised initials,Slits flesh-soft metalTo keep your line level(Your line that is level with life),Ravens fly blood-splashed andStick cracked beaks through crazedHeads of children gone sillyAs geese on an Atlantic green.Your Trakl holds steady -Scarce a change in the copy -But tells the horror in orderAs in disorder too.Quiet tap, tap tapOf type in the stick asFalklands voices fade and swell.A double, a missed phrase;Literals appear fast as Exocets or lies.It is time to put the press to bed.Tomorrow, with platen, ink, damped paper,Black art in three dimensions,We'll try to set things right.WESTERLY, No.2, JUNE, 1989 79
- 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
- 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
- Page 82 and 83: KNUTE SKINNERAugust 15There's a lig
- Page 84 and 85: M.E. PATTI WALKERThe Hook"Aren't yo
- Page 86 and 87: QMNQMNQMNQMNapartheid man, this is
- Page 88 and 89: QMNQMNQMNeasy because you don't bel
- Page 90 and 91: lands or which have been taken over
- Page 92 and 93: GEOFF GOODFELLOWToo MuchDianne is 1
- Page 94 and 95: SHANE McCAULEYSouth Fremantle, Summ
- Page 96 and 97: JEAN KENTWaiting Out the DroughtWai
- Page 98 and 99: STEPHEN MAGEEJesus Falls, South Aus
- Page 100 and 101: SIMON BROWNBlue Hole, Santothe colo
- Page 102 and 103: CONAL FITZPATRICKA Brown Dog, Off A
- Page 104 and 105: PAUL HETHERINGTONOne RoomIn teeming
- Page 106 and 107: society, or, in the terms of the my
- Page 108 and 109: emphasised (I think) in the referen
- Page 110 and 111: Summer Leaves". This continues the
- Page 112 and 113: Deficiency Bill in Western Australi
- Page 114 and 115: invocation of pastoral near the beg
- Page 116 and 117: particularly dreaded). The final re
- Page 118 and 119: VINCENT O'SULLIVAN - is one of New
JOHN WINTERThe Bird ManIn wooded, pitted, Lawrence country,Our windows stayed always open:Robin, chaffmch, thrush and woodcockFed daily from our table.Our sideboard gathered droppingsAs proud neighbours' never gathered dust.No bathroom ever stank as oursWhen butcherbirds hung their prey.In twilight evenings you gathered friendsTo sit and talk of birds, always birds.Old Matt the poacher satWith Detective-Sergeant Brand -The lion and the lamb.(But who was lion, who was lamb,When each had lost an eye to shot?)I sat beneath the stuffed white owlsListening to Bevis read as slowAs all those birds must have died.I grew to hate your crueltyAs much as the love you gaveTo anything that flew.You gave nothing to our mother,Save intimations of life's meaningFound in pits of rooks' stomachs.Once only did I love you:High in rheumatic fever,Your collier's arms held meThree black shifts through.Now, forty pheasant-seasons later,Brought blind to this new landWhere every bird's accent puzzles you,Longing for the beat of wings under eaves,You let me carry you, child-light,In silence to your bed, your last kickA refusal to die on anything but feathers.78WESTERLY, No.2, JUNE, 1989
Change language