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...._.P. K. PAGE B. RUDDICK P.ANDERSON F.R.SCOTT A. M. KLEIN 


MONTREAL, CANADA TWO POEl,LS BY A.M. 
MARCH 1944 
KLEIN 
COT l~~RCIAL B..t,.N1C 
. F_lowering jungle, where all fauna meet Crossing the marbled pool to thickets whence The prompted parrots, alien-voiced, ehtreat The kernel'd hoard, the efflorescent pence, Wondrous your caves, whose big doors must be rolled For entrance, and whose flora none can seek Against th0 armed unicorn, furred blue and gold, Against the vines fatal, or the berries, that touched, shriek. 
How quiet is your shadG with broad green leavosl Yet is it jungle-quiet which d0ceives: Toothless, with drawn nails, tho boasts paviJ your ground-0, the fierce d0aths expiring with no soundt 
BREAD 
Creation's crust and crumb, breaking of bread, Seodstaff and whc.atwand of all miracles, By your white fiat, at the feast-times said, ·v\Torld moves, and is revived the shrouded pulse 1 Rising, as daily rises the quickening east, 0 kneading of knowledge, leaven of happiness, History yGarns upon your yearning yeast! 
No house is home without your wifeliness, 
No city stands up from its rock-bound knees Without your rustic aid, None ar6 elect Save you be con1~on. All philosophies Betray them with your yokel dialect. 
0 black-bread hemisphere, oblong of rye, Crescent and circle of the soeded bun, All art is builded on your geometry, All science explosive from your captured sun. 
Bakers most priestly, in your robes of flour, 0 Levites at your altar'd ovens, bind, Bind me forever .in your ritual, your Worship and prayer, me, and all mankind% 

.. 
page t'7o 
*** AUTUMN *** 
Autumn began to come. It came slowly, at first imbedded in summer, with 
a touch of coldness in the mornings, with a leaf hitting the· windowpane hard as it 
fell to the ground. The trees were still a dullish green. But gradually the sun
light separated from the air, as though it were old enough to be a thing of itself 
to be inde·pendent. And as the air grew colder and bluer, the sunlight became ripe; 
and more mellow. He saw it, a thing by itself, on the brick wall across from his 
windows. It was darker and gentler now. 
It was at this time that the tomatoes grew cheaper and cheape~, so cheap 
that one bought them in baskets for thirty cents and then twenty-five, so cheap 
that one occasionally could buy two baskets at a time, And the peaches came down 
in price too. The tomatoes and peaches would be heaped on the table, the sunlight 
wrapped around them like something soft and even woolly. 
One day there was the heavy drone of a trainer in the deep blue sky. He 
thought of this as a sign of autumn. The sky was so blue that you couldn't see the 
frost. But the essence of frost was there, the sky was hardening, there was no 
doubt about it, and suddenly he said to himself, as he nervously touched a strip of 
sunlight on the window sill--'This way one owns a death.' 
There was, of course, somewhere a great rain. One night it gathered round the house, perpetually descended the windows, gushed from the roof spouts, and made the streets black and shiny. It held no trace of wind or thunder. It needed nothing but its own enormous .force which covered space and time, for it gave to time a new accent. It made a black tent of noise and in the centre of this tent he switched on a desk light and carefully arranged pencils and paper. ,NoW) I am in the still centre of the turning wheel,' he thought. It was the privileged position. In summer one is never at the centre. The excitement almost always is somewhere else. Children fumbling in water. A rabbit 1 a bird, deserting into immense nowheres of underbrush and forest. A mountain rising blacker behind another mountain. But now one was driven in upon oneself, And the rain, without birds or mountains or anything at all but itself, continued to fall. It fell all night. In the morning it was still there. The leaves were sodden underfoot. 
But after it came more of those days when the .sky was deep blue and the edges ot buildings hard and brittle, and when the sunlight stood here and there like a fruit tree or flowed into little patches where it collected itself and seemed to fall asleep. One afternoon he walked on the mountain. Tho glades were taking on a6ain the straightness and solitudes of their ba?e trunks. Whole suburbs of leaves, whole neighbourhoods of birds were disappearing. The fat squirrels went about in an atmosphere that became more and more like a cage. He saw, in a clump of maples near the playing field, the sun caught and transfixed in a cloud of smoke, its rays deployed in deep slants through cathedral ·windows. The deep droning of an aeroplane had for a moment the excessive tortured noise of cicadas in sununer. Then it faded away in a whining diminuendo~ 'This music has a dying fall.' 
This was the time when those who could afford it took a trip up North to se.e the autumn colours in the Laurentians. This great holiday country hung suspended between two more familiar seasons--surnmer with its lakes, berry patches, verandahs, and the winter of skiing, deep drifts altering, often beyond recognition• the roads and bypaths. The country was now scenery above everything else: a backdrop, more or loss impenetrable. It was something seen from an armchair, touched with the colours of books , touched with th6 brown stains and distant misty water-marks of old paper, Wo'ods too wet to vmlk in, lakes too cold for a bathe, trails muddy and impassable. The atmosphere was usually permeated with water and yet within it the woods 
page throe 
burst into flame. The scarlet of th0 m.o.ples, one always heard of that. The word 'scarlet' was not one which would often be used in the city. Yet people would, in autumn, use such a word freely and gnily, with an enthusiasm they seemed to keep specially for the autumn troos, as though there something veryt precious· to them;-.-· , something they usually kept repressed, were gloriously liberated. And the beautiful violent words made him ·think of what these people k8pt repressed and hiddcn--their desire for beauty, for violence and perhaps even for death. And there was yellow too, the pale yellow ·of the birches. ·And russet and purple•. Yet nowhere was there anything but wetness, decc:-~y, falling of' loaves, infinite paleing of leo.ves already 
on the ground. He could not deny that the relation of city dwellers to the country above their heads interested him. For what wo.s Canada but crude ragged exploitations along the southern fringe of enormous distances? To take such symbolism seriously was a poetic device, r ather than a psychological one. 'Yet over our heads,' he thought, 'there lies a comparatively unspoiled beauty to which we each bring a secret response. It lies there, half empty and unrenl, and we work out in it the wishes we do not sE:e satisfi6d in our daily life. 13omeon0 kills a snake. Someone watches a leaf falling to the ground or sees tho rain clotting tho trees or a hill rising, solitary, blue-black, behind anoth~r hill. Driving bnck from it, past the chalets and the private property signs llild the notices about restricted clientele~ one cannot help feeling that it is full of the ghosts and emanations of ourselves, 1.·.rho meet on that neutral ground the still vague wind of the future.' As October proceeded, tho autwnn grew at once harder and more pale. The sunlight became pale as a flower in its sheaf of wind. It was less a commodity to be handled. There is a time when those who are afraid of thunderstorms look up at -the sky and are amazed to see ragged formations of cloud which would have filled them with unease in summer now pass over without stirrings. hair on their heads. Instead of lightninc, there is a hint of snow. And now one lights the stove. It begins to breathe heavily with its red lungs. Outside the window, the trees look like apparatus in some deserted laboratory. Often now, on Mondays, his boss presents him with a .brace of wild duck he has shot ·during the weekend, The parcel the Janitor hands him is curiously soft and limp, and seems to mould itself under his hands--a parcel so strongly tactile that one wo~ld not think of tuckine it under one's nrm, Now is the time to enter the storeroom where the ducks are hung, the ducks with their long limp necks, the almost unbearable iridescence of their fenthers and their grent ugly feet swinging against the wall, The smell of apples in the gloom. The small but oo.tisfactory stores of jam and cheese and tea. The cobweb windww and the background of coal. The storeroom, unpleasantly hot and stuffy in the summer, is now a source of warmth which is entirely an illusion born of its tarry, spicy smell, There is a cert_ain smugness in these satisfactions. Yet Time that was, in StL'1111ler no more than an accomplice is now n steady ticking in the room. With every eff~rt to new ·work, with every leap of imnginat ion or lo~ge of reverie, Time increases its stature. The year is drawing to a close. And it is no ordinary year, It is already destined to make history. To after generations it will seem a strange year, both heroic and horrible~ with all the' mysteriousness of war and heroism. It 
will be one of those vitally important years which many will prefer not to remember. For it •will be difficult for people to think-themselves back into so much tentative effort, so much doubt and misory. War years; are years apart. . 
The dying year brings before him again the problem of mortality and immortality. The individual leaf falls nnd will nover recover its colour and shape. 
page four 
Nothing, however, just is: everything changes, everything becomes, everything is a proce~s. 'To be lost in that process,' he thinks, 'is death. To accept it, to work within it as one of the great mass, is life. The people does not die.• This is some consolation. 
Town.rds tho ond of autumn an extraordinary, a paradoxical thing occ~rs. When the first snow lies on the ground and the wind blows down from the north, it is part of his job to take his pupils bathing in the \~1ICA. The foptbnll season is over but it is still much too early for ice hockey, Faces that he has taught day afte~ day are now attached to long slippery bodies and dance about on naked feet. It is ns though, just as winter appeared, one had discovered a scene kept over from the summer, preserved in an atmosphere of bandaged pipes and chlorinated water. Or a.s though' the white snow already held in its depths th8 white bodies and green lakes which would eventually replace it. 
An autumnal person called Joe is in charge of ~he locker room, Badly paid, resigned and philosophic he keeps cigarette butts in a drawer and has beside him n usunlly empty teacup. He is gaunt and vrry as n leafless tree. When he has driven out the white boys, snugly dressed in their overcoats and scarves, he lets in · the black through his wire door--the smo.11 negroes whose turn it is to play in this basement jungle, The 12.st white boy is ,lwnys out before the first coloured boy comes in. 
And now, really, it is autumn no longer. 
PATRICK A.11)ERSON. 
---------♦ -------r<Oo•--
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--__._.....,........_.........,......... T{lO POEivlS ?ATRI.CK. .A.ND:ERSON 
* * * 
TID STOVE 
Not only is hent ornanontal and re o.villy wrought but it has its Olm sr:.oll e.r.1.d its o~m sound, the s::oll of blistering tin ~here th0 pip~ menndcrs across th13 kitchcn and into tho farther roon and up through the roof and snow into tho night, 
and the sr:1ell of v1ood sr.1oke r.rhere it burns and blovrs 1:1assive nnd grandiose in tho boosted roon and several sorts of ticks when it oogins to cool after 'Vv"O hav,3 gone to bed in our rough blankots and on the hob the kettle TTbistl0s still. 
And it is boautiful the big Q,mbec stove standing in tho farr:ihouso kitchen and quit0 as baroque as tho oloogrnph on the wall or the slobbering cretin dragging his f0ot on tho stair. A thing as curled as Christ's hair. In its ·,1ay also a sacred heart. 

Tako from the -rroodpilo stackud again.st t.h.o -;7all birchlogs ill satin shreds of st ipplod bark, pine logs pouted t-:ith 6ur::, and shovo tha:1 honeunder its iron racks the ti lo s "\;i 11 tmnklo and its mirror sirnnor at you across tho roo~:-l. 
On it you can bake anything frco ski socks to pies and ':'"Jhon you lio asle0p, in your blank0ts, after the day on the :Maple Leaf trai1, the dogs y;ill circle it still, and shuffl0, e.nd blink their cyos and the fir0 will shufflG and slunp fuld shut its coals. 

---~-.. 
BALLAD OF RAT LHAY S"T'.itTIONS 
,fl~y do thay make th0 glass tho colour of rain and why aro tho restaurants lighted -~ti.th stoaJ:5 and gas, why do the .in.irrors work, but not the cigarotto rm.achinos, and TThy are tho trains nado of horsehair m1d nicoti no and glass and ~.-:hy do tho schoolboys leap on the dirty plo.t ferns? 
Bocauso Victoria is tho railTTay quoon and tho chandelier of toe.rs hangs in hor faco, she wa.vos her unionjo.ck in the uoods of sorro-:::woaring wido-;;' s twoods at Chnri ng Cross, the:: portors boar the bags of h0r Edward's cyos nnd Disraeli's cricl{Gt bag with tho sceptre i21 it. 
Th,:.i shootir~-lodt.;o of tho train l1l"i.OV0 s 1.L.""-dcr tho arch to hUL!t BalPbral in tho iron mo.thcr, tho ghillie JJhn cks his gai tors, the Rothschild.s staro through O1,0ra glassos at the :·.1ountain nor:oy, bagpipes ~')lay iri tho turfy harris fio lds a.nu ov2_ry station has its tartan -v.roathcr . 
If you would go to Eire tho start is horo ~:i th a brand.y in tho club or a tart i.ti a hans ontho Irish cho.n::Gl foaos and the spit in Liffoy but tho first-of the frothy islG is th0 yeast of Euston, tho purlieus of lVIarx slide by in a :1oasoup fog but tho legendary land is Arthurian. 
page six 
0 tho Gaglu sonrs in the rafters of Paddington a.no. boc.t s its rusty i:rings mth thG flap of a pndlock one!. over tho platforn the grou.so-gro~r wifo is pursued by tho alGxarl.dra nan in thG chcckoci py jnno.s TThilo ny lady nicotine and the ooncor bird run -:;:coping tl1rough tho woods of Surbiton. 
vThy do thoy rnko tho trains to PurloJr oe.rly breaking tho black bag of Viet ori c. 's ~,-_rornb, why do0s tho ~Jonthor carry an opon UE1broll2. through tho southern counties to tho da.--:1~:3s of Brighton, and nhy do -:-1e run upholstered pc.st villcge cricket with the az1Ee sur.r1er lid.1t on Rn ~1tir.1acc~sse.r? 
Because Victorin is the rail;x:ay Queen, those are pearls that ~ere her unrua-t.wed, she knits the purl and the plain, the bone and the button into the cardigan she 1.7ears for the people, she stabs her hc.t with a girder ond in her veil that dry sqooshed like a moth is Keats's nightingale. 
**** 

FE.fill ••• BrlUCZ RUDDICK 
Buxie d O easily in hint 
to the sole, and the band told by a rosy threat, 
in eyelid quick to a or, passive to penny -{-::han µiin' s ulti au te c~eath to the burnins  blast sends nerve  
and  foar  goes.  

These arc accomodatod, tho oasy, nnd tho final fall. 
But olsowhero, in planes of living , sudden and unnamed it trapezes in brnin, somorsa.ults th;roqgh tho blood, and i s sick in the coiling gut or, rae.liGnantly, booms to tho ev., es of lovo or turns like a worm in tho throe.t. 
page sevon 
To.k:o o.ny city, scy in mind or innocuous on rn.c.p. Soo in tho goo.motry nrroTTs and blados of it cli~Vi~ tho odgos of hope, tho tondri ls of r:ondor. In c lnxon or strung on o. s iron it curls ovo r t:t-_o sills or st8.JJ11nors undor e st o.ir • 
..:~t nir;ht, from tho st roots though & slammod door guffa~s at it it st&ys, it stays in shock of bool in & hall, 
c.s doubt in o. faltori ng koy and tho soft unlatelling hand of lovo. CraTTl from it, under a floor and fur brushes th0 arm or nr.rs tho oxquisito cornoa oponed into tho dark. 
Loavo city and man and so ti11 rock and troo sho-r.r non0 of it, and noTT to tho nose of tho ~oods your spoor nproads atmosphoros of ~t, and, sorr.o night, in the mind it mir8.clos pe.ck-rat to ~'?.nthor. 
In histories it stirs; in pyrani ds, sunddlod and drJ7, prone for the en 11-boys of god; iiord siezod in a rock; Lazarus q_uavoring, "Lord Jesus•" 
Seo it ~poll in a drunken sailor n boyhood t'7isto d in uavos. Tako love or o. f'a i th for a curo. Thon, \vi th Reason topplint:; the ,·iars, 0 r omombor the ho.gs, ·.-:ithout soason, d%loss, sucking their gums, ~horo fear rrakos cronos ot the angels and tho soft-eyed girls of tho world-. 
***** 
S.ATURDil.Y SUl'IDJJ:~ F.R.SCOTT 
Th0 tri ple-dockor end the double-cone 
side-sm pc sTTiftly, suck the coko-strar;rs dry. Ride toadstool soat bosido th0 slab of morguo--Swoot corner drug-store, s'.-7'Got pie in th3 sky. 
pago GiGht 
HirJ. of tho front,-flap epron, him I sing, Tho countor-clockuiso clerk in undoralls. Swing lou, suoot chocolato, oh Sl7in6 , si:-.-ing, Vlhilo check by juko the jitter chattor falls. 
I srd vol on my axlo and s lE voy The latox tintox cutox kot GX 12.nd, Soft kiYl.(:idorns soll for dinns, Lif0 Pie Look Click Inflato tho malo with conquost girly gre..nd. 
I.ly brothers and my sistors, tuo by t uo, Sit sipping succulonco and sighing sex. ·s ach -tiny adolescent univorso i:.. uorld tho vostod interests annex. 
Such bread and circuses those times allow, Opium most popular, lifo so s r;n 11 and slick, Porhnps in sugar cor10s tomorrow's datin Ju1d cellophane shell r:rap the heretic. 
TIE :a.;.NDS .L-:l~D THE ffi..li-lITIFUL CHILDREN 
Band rrokos e. tunnol of tho open .stroot at first, hoariJJ.G it; seeing it, bnnd bocomos high; bras sos ascending on the strings of sun build their o,-;n auditorium of light, v.indo-r-1s fro.m corno ts and a dome of drwns. 
And aluays att0ndnnt on bends, tho beautiful childron, '.7hito Hith ru..YJ.ning and innocenco. An.d the arthl·itic old ~ho, pati0nt bohind their rr indous are no longer split by thG s uddon yolloTT of irragination or carried be~rond their angular limits of distance. 
But t ho children move in tho trcmblin6 _bui ldi n6 of sound, suro as a choir until band. breaks and sea ttcrs, crumble s about th0m and is rro.dG of non tirod a:ad grurnblipg on tho straggling grass • 
.A.I1d t ho children, lost, lost, in an opon space r or:1embor tho cortainty of tho anchored ho1:10 and cry on t ho U.."l').kn07-7ll odge of thoir orm. city thoi r lips stiff fron an imaginary trumpet. 
P.K.PAGE 
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