? R SCOTT 11ARGA1iF,T D/.Y B ~UDDICK PATRICK ANDERSON N SHAW P K PAGE UMBER 2 APRIL I942 NOTE ,.mments on thJ first PREVIEW have proved very satisfactory. The aims ..xpressed in the statement are. already in process of being fulfilled. 10~ of the pieces from last month•s issue have already been bid for, • I o rtact as been made with a group of writers in Vancouver and another .. c ber has been added to the groupo Co~ents from England are not yet c. :~i:J_able·. ... .ire wish to thank Miss Ruth Katz through whose great kindness these :i.:;.sues are !nimeogrnphed, ST.}:"VIMER ' S JOE He unlockeQ an apple first, then lifted the latch of tho 8IlCGStrnl treG, whistled amongst the tall corn gaily like a scythe of birds: · on the shore the lion waves lay dovm on their paws ·and above the trodden sand a storm o:: · t:;-u.l~.s made sadness as white aE: .April docs; hL climbed tnc stalled peak above the hush· of the siirr~~d sen, .. ·e,he lar~: v.1ent UP orJ. his stalk and the gorse had a 'i-.rJ of beos0 s i5n .i:·.e "':--.1. to your wn:t or he cried to the cool A.r.nul, wri t c mo j_nto jrou::. smooth bible he c2.:lcd to ;.;ho lR!:c, unwind me ~,n yo1.rr reel he said to th1J re-ad 1)!°' go~ slow ~c ~n~o a grey rock! ½ut the ar -.wer wRs· l';o Joun r H2 cnllei ~o the hunting morning then to shoot ~is ½lood, he askot the seamstr~ss of the woods tc stitsh his manhood, he stripped to show his flesh, his flesh was white ~s snow givo Me ocstRcJ of total loveJ 'but tl-ic answe;r was !Jo Joot' Thc1. d:oppcc. b;:,,r ·.vino. £'.t th(.; starting-point ~Q ~oc ~3~~cd by s~ona, he ~2~ oft with the grocer's salt of love i~ th~ pl~ce of boarrts; s·::..... ~.-~ c ·•.-, ~-c-1.s J 2:: hir.1 ;:ind sparrows shot ':.bC -1 ,~ (J l G h 0 C;. i , ·2.:.gt.~ 2.cft; :.n. !_·. :i ,·... :i.l for tho farthest sou~h, eye~ f0 lJ frG~ n k~tc; ·.-.1~.i \.! -cr:.e Lett;U~:\l ll:chcrs in their pool .. .. ·... en nigh~'s a journey lan 's in oubt · flesh is a trqveller, ho for the lantern of yourself ho for the clockJ In the always-easy bed he found the lazy chart, in the uncharted land he saw the heart's riot; wrestling weak angels then he climbed gristle and bone until on top of himself he saw tat he was still alone: 0 God from my Itali~ pride deliver me now, and from my terriole stecpnessJ but the answer was No Joe the answer was No. Then sudden in the scope of sea with the delight of found he sawhis treasure island, he sawhis milkwhite fathom • • To everyspar and nerve he set ·his orchard sails and in th0 fleet of love his eyes were sen-bluo admirals, while at his telescope of brass she lulled her palms, lay level to his pridei lay still to is ocked rigging. 0 secret in that heart of a place a bird ldoks out, pivots thG forest on its nest, its eye thG germ of light no join was seen between flesh and flesh between hair and grass, loving themselves the world they loved with a mirroris process; leaving thcj.r fcar in another place, their clock in a pool it seemed that the earth had made of them its c2pj.-~a~ for tno deputies of leaves Rnd waves the motes of wit, a parliruncn~ of tho water-jet and a su~-up s3nate. Ho turned towards his love nnd said, LovG, tell me now .is not o~ love perpetual? but she said No Joo. Is not 0ur ocstacy for life I . with a hey-nonny-no? and sh0 replied from a long way off and her answe~ was No. I c~ll you by our bod of love couple , roll and hairy-ho J she answered; \Vb.ib we loved these ·dicdp I with n0 ng~jn, a feast of No • .Patrick .Anderson wo1-: •ovel at new tylcs in navuls and a change of shirtl> ( W., ~I .. Au ·-.-. , . · ,·......11-known lines adapted for use by Dylan Thomas) ·• THE LIBRARY BOOK 0 :z kolnikov woke up late next dny after e. brokJn sleep and Caroline ------.: ~-n the corner onto William Street on a Novembor evening. Tho sidewal~ as wet after a day of autumn rain, it was covered with aging leav2s. The p~~J.ostcd softly, with a muffled sound, dying awny into silence as she passed·over them. cross the street was Harper School, beside _it the jail ,.ith its high and plain stone wall. Caroline always looked specially at ~ , I :t, regi .tcred that it was the jail, m~dc a momentary effort and then dropped it. She loiew nothing about it, had never s08n inside. She never could pl."Operly believe that inside there mcnr:wcrc kept by f orcc. William street led on to the Courthouse Sq~aro, forming one of its four sides. · over on the top of the Courthouse, above the front door, Justice with her blinded eyes held out the scales. At present sho was only a dim mass barely made out in the dnrlmess. Caroline glanced up from habit. She tma.ginc the statue soaring out into tho rainy night, sightless, her arms·. aloft, passing over the river, dovm across tho mountains. She would float over the United States which lay, lights winking distantly, a low shore .ine, on the other side of the river and from where she imagined always she coul hear a faint and far-off humming. Across tho Square the window of the First Church dimly ·glowed like a great coloured flower. She know the few lights lit inside were at the bac~ in the choir loft. It was Friday evening. Gordon Empey was having his organ lesson• . Raskolnikov writhed with nervous irritation as the servant girl entered ,his room. Caroline shifted hor umbrella into a more comfortable position and caught the books moro securely against her shoulder. Who else lmew how ·he hated his tiny cupboard of a room with its dusty yellow paper? A sudden flurry pattered raindrops onto tho umbrella and a few clinging leaves. She · 1raisea. hor arm and tho street lamp with its three pearly clusters sent a !cold light for an instant on her serious face. Now she was on George Str~et _ ' 2.nd the library was just two blocks away. Crossing Courthouse Street which led to the river a co.oln0ss caused her to tighten her arms and shiver~ She '\•alked a little faster. That dream. Someday in somG city, turning from a library shelf, "You 're the one I 'vo baon looking ·for. 0 His eyes would be lighted up. Waking in tho moonlight hearing the softly breathing sighs of tho sleepers. Those two in their enormous room, Grandfather in his bedroom at the back, Frances n.nd Juli.:; through th0 wnll. Frances w_as chattering angrily, she listoned, it diod away into mutterings and moans • .. Pest 1'1r. Reaper rs house, a girl was going up tho steps. The door opened and she heard tho sound of the piano. "I hoar you study vocal too?" . "No, : I don"t study vocal. I tako singing lessons." But -not from Mr. Reaper. :, Up the library steps. Inside it was wRrm, not a voice was raised. Through ··the glass window of the rending room the readers were to be seen, · inanimate .' figures, in sprawling attitudes ovor the spread newspapers. Martin Fry ;: ·vas there. He was always there with a magazine. He was in her class, two .:\r.ows over but quiet and awkward, from the country. They never said hello. iShe left her books on the desk. Three aisles along and down and bnck by the window. She switched on the light. Where was a name to be found like >that? Dostoyovsky. They and the o; then thee ru1d the v. The name, the country, the books. A Caroline and a Fyodor, one had no chance. What next? She touched the books. ·.:~. Wingrave wore a pince ncz with black rims. He ple.yed with it nervously in .11is fits of irritA.tion, his sharp admonishments for quiet as 3omeo_no laughed ot1t loud in tho inside porcha Most people wer~ afraid Jf his ill-humour. Ho was an Englishman and he hated this country, ~lamped down ns he was in a small town, without contacts, for so many /ears. He hated most people, onG felt. Caroline liked him. "What have :r:ou there today? Hmo tt His fingers, a littlo stiff with rheumatism~ ..u.rnblcd over a filing cas0 of cards. "MrQ Wingrave, ° Caroline leaned -~lightly over the desk. "H2.vc you any scientific books on table rapping? 0 ::._~ looked up o.t oncGo "Last night we made the tnblo jump. I want to lmow '::10 cxplru1ation., It's elcctricity or something, isn et it?". "You'd better o:; careful, young lady." He stamped hor book and handed it across to her ''.)f course I aor.'t believe in :it." She blushed. "I mean, I lmow it's • :.othing sup2rnaturnl. I w2J1t to lmow how it's done·. A:re there any books ::er~?" "Here? I Filt water. • om~ face under vhe wave will be Pitiful as the little lnckey's and t e initiall8d suitcase you pack nnd save will only precipitate the gall green grave. There will be no laying-out on the shell ribbed bed, no undertaker with fat white breath o comb the feather hair or stick the pin into the gilt edged stock beneath the chin; and no ol woman will come with guttering hands to seal your eyes with pennies and no old man will need to press the tired bRll of his foot sha p on the spade t? dig the hnllowed spot. Octopus arms will ho-ld you and sea snails will stud the carefully mass~ged lobes of your ears. Tnu wide blade of the water will pare the hips do\m to a size sixteen--the coveted size; ~a starfish, swept by the wakes of other ships will cast their angular shapes across your eyes. ... P.K.Pagc • Drowned Sailor He couldn't hear their roar Nor see their belly shake Sea green,. f . Brown was the sea weed That ringed his frigid ear And distant ,the .rnsp Of the claw upon his cold snow bone.· Carving the thin horizon Was the torn sea shudder, 1 That day, When time still moved, When the ships were full And knived the sea dance- Gulls hung whistling in the empty air. ew green was the colour And far below was near At hando ~he fish were intimate ~~d the casual shadow passed His disrobing flesh, And the careful trace turned fluid. Neufville Shaw Poem It is not only this the fusing of the lips the fell moves of blunt loveso It is not in the whisper nor the coils of despairo There is nor like love for rocks undying freed from fear of years' undoing. -Tatching the harried lift of hand;--·:vashing the mnrks th0 grey minute has left, while the dark day mocks • nnd seep~ to the he~rt &~d does not leave. Vit this incessant hurt grows the love. Bruce Ruddick Bos~on Tea rty, 1940 Beneath this hum of trivial talk • I A rebel memory vainly stirs. The hardened arteries of speech Obstruct the paths the blood prefers. The formalisms, cut as glass, Sway gently on their silken thread, Emitting tinkles as we pass--The embattled farmers long are dead The Harvard pundit's tea is brought Amid the ample female forms. He quits his crevices of thought To taste th~ soft and simpler norms. While D.A.R's ·and Ph.D's And 1How-dtyG-do's' and 'Is-th.:'.t-so's' • Are wafted on a scented brGczo That piles the orchid on the rose. The English butler scarce is heard Purveying the historic drink. Hi6 servile mien, without a word, provides the true hist0:cic link Of colony and rulin~ class, Of rights by royalty .~lssolved, Declnred dependence of the mass, And rovolution unrevolved. 0 serve me, Butler, mild and meek, Your gentle tea so piping hot1 No rebel here shall dare to speak, And round this v-.rorld, who hear_s a shot? ) F.R.Sco~t Those who wish to continue to receive PREVIEW are reminded that the subscription is fifty cents for six issues, mailable to IYirs. Kit Shaw, 5593 Cote St, Luke Road, N.D.Go, Montreal, Quebec,