pdf download - Westerly Magazine
pdf download - Westerly Magazine pdf download - Westerly Magazine
Oh Incas of memoryWe have come to get gold, not till soil like peasants,said the young Cortes.(pest-ridden illiteratestrampUng effete,decadent, dying—who said?—cultures)Incas of memory, dearer by far than rooms of goldSanta Maria . . .Pinta . . .Nina . . .Flashing meteors.Compass all awry . . .The vast plains of the Sargasso: mutiny.Thensweetness of morning, like Andalusian April—sea-birds,low-lying cloud,temperate breezes andonly the nightingale wanting . . .Compass bewitched,monsters above and below—thendog-roses, sodden in the sea—but living . . .Oh lost and found.Oh damned and reprieved.Goblin sailors ransomed on the rim of the world.America not discovered,but recovered:China?Who the hell saidanything about China?To have cut the line and ventured forth was more than enoughThe silence between,6 ^^^^E^LY, No. 1, MARCH. 1968
Horizon-haunted men.Looters and Pirates.Buccaneers who never came but to rape and pillage:(so greedy for lifeyou must allhave been artistsor poetsof some sort)though Geography pardons and History winks an eyeMy unknown,your unknown—what difference now?. . . Though you do have the best of it- you know—your boneswhitening beaches,or lyingin quiet reachesof tidal waterundisturbed.Mine,as I write,beingreservedfor the savage coastsof Identity,whose fateful ebb and flowwastes and corrodesthe inviolatespirit—where to love, to dare greatly, is counted a kind of greed.(But no whining: the course is set.)A little wine for the journey, Captains . . .No?How stupid! I forget—like the rest, you drink blood only . . .BACK FROM THE STINKING FOSSE then,I await Teiresias,who knows what happensin that silenceJOHNGOODAYWESTERLY, No. 1, MARCH, 1968 17
- Page 1 and 2: westerlyA QUARTERLY REVIEW PRICE 60
- Page 3: westerlya quarterlyreviewEDITORIALC
- Page 6 and 7: Some JOURNALS published byUNIVERSIT
- Page 8 and 9: "WeU, maybe this one is, too.""With
- Page 10: a leer. What really infuriated her
- Page 13 and 14: Guest of honour? No less than the G
- Page 15 and 16: THE NAVIGATORS(To Albert Tucker)Bei
- Page 17: Mother of navigators.Beater of men.
- Page 21 and 22: On the table Taki had left a crumpl
- Page 23 and 24: FEARA thousand, thousand stars and
- Page 25 and 26: Judith ClarkeTHANK YOU MRS. GREENBE
- Page 27 and 28: Oh no, thought Lai Chandra, oh no.
- Page 29: "Nuance," she said- and "poetry,"an
- Page 32 and 33: TO WAKE, TO FLOWfor my wifeFor me t
- Page 34: With apparent indulgence Lola encou
- Page 39 and 40: or another, and some of the paintin
- Page 41: I do not think it has been fulfille
- Page 45 and 46: important thing for a writer who ha
- Page 47 and 48: from which she herself had sprung.
- Page 49 and 50: They are looking for him now in the
- Page 51 and 52: departure from what had come to be
- Page 53: ary degree the atmosphere of a trib
- Page 56 and 57: Blessed is the mother with her chil
- Page 58 and 59: IF YOU DON'T KNOW HOWDON'T DO ITft>
- Page 60 and 61: And yet perhaps both men drew from
- Page 62 and 63: other respects his attitude was mor
- Page 64 and 65: clearing and, as they are usually t
- Page 66 and 67: WHAT IS THECRITIC?The Critic is a c
Horizon-haunted men.Looters and Pirates.Buccaneers who never came but to rape and pillage:(so greedy for lifeyou must allhave been artistsor poetsof some sort)though Geography pardons and History winks an eyeMy unknown,your unknown—what difference now?. . . Though you do have the best of it- you know—your boneswhitening beaches,or lyingin quiet reachesof tidal waterundisturbed.Mine,as I write,beingreservedfor the savage coastsof Identity,whose fateful ebb and flowwastes and corrodesthe inviolatespirit—where to love, to dare greatly, is counted a kind of greed.(But no whining: the course is set.)A little wine for the journey, Captains . . .No?How stupid! I forget—like the rest, you drink blood only . . .BACK FROM THE STINKING FOSSE then,I await Teiresias,who knows what happensin that silenceJOHNGOODAYWESTERLY, No. 1, MARCH, 1968 17
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