1969 Transit Number 2

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transit-02-front-cvr-lores
Transit number 2 front cover


[Transit02 page 1]
TRANSIT
2

contents
  3. Brian Ridley
  4. Mal Morgan
        W. McCall
  5. Suzanne Hunt
        Anthony Fry
  6. Les. A. Murray
  7. Mark Pallas
  8. Patrick Alexander
  9. Michael Dransfield
10. David Rankin
        Bob Ellis
12. Rudi Krausmann
14. Peter J.F. Newton
15. Peter Stephens
16. Bronwen Gale
17. Robert Gray
18. George Woodger
        Brian Gorman
19. Robert Adamson
20. Wilhelm Heiner
21. Craig Powell
23. Garth Clarke
24. Peter Spearrit
        Josef Lesser
25. John E. Tranter
26. Jon Clarke
27. Randolph
28. Barry Elliott
29. Richard Tipping
32. Paul Smith


[Transit02 page 2]
Most Poetry Magazines are heavily subsidised
by Government or private bodies to offset the
financial loss inevitable in this area of
publishing
          Transit is not.
To keep our head above water we are compelled
to raise the price of the magazine to fifty
cents (50¢). We are unable to pay contributors
but those whose poems are accepted for
publication receive a free copy of the magazine.

          *******
Our present address is:
          112 Lawson Street, Paddington, 2021

From late January our new address will be:
          19 Derby Street, Camperdown, 2050

          *******
Please enclose a stamped addressed envelope with
all your contributions. Make sure you keep copies
of any poems as no responsibility can be taken for
MSS. lost or damaged in the post
          *******

Editor:
Assist. Editor
Cover Painting:
Layout, etc:
Published by:
John E. Tranter
Lyn Tranter
randolph [in fact, Wally Randolph]
John E. Tranter
Carrier Press, Sydney.

          *******
Since the life-expectancy of small poetry magazines is usually
so brief, we feel it would be unfair to ask for subscriptions
to Transit. If you happen to have lots of spare money and a
desire to give it away, a small donation would help us to
produce a better quality magazine.


[Transit02 page 3]
[Author:] Brian Ridley
[Title:] While She Sketches

When we met last weekend you created in us
A new season of the year. Walking now this late
Winter afternoon, your words have been meant
For the small stones, the electric cold railings.
The river. It has become a long rope of revolving
Shabby steel, its dull grey light infecting

Your eyes. And when you came out, your room
Was arranged as bare as this day. I look for photos.

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 4]
[Author:] Mal Morgan
[Title:] LETS GO BACK [stet]

to our perambulator life when if we were
lucky we sped down the whole world on 4 wobbly
wheels and our primitive yearnings were satisfied by
honey on a bacteria ridden convenient
muffler of primitive yearnings and
we sucked our sustenance from a willing pink-tipped
warm receptacle that we later called mama and
sometimes our screaming caused our inconsiderate

[Above: First 8 lines only]

[Author:] W. McCall
[Title:] none

Tough & slender is my love
  Swaying like these bamboo strands
      For they are softly beaten by the wind
        And in their arms they hold the air,
          Their strength lies hidden by their gentleness.

[Above: complete poem]


[Transit02 page 5]
[Author:] Suzanne Hunt
[Title:] Coup D’Oeil

Woman, angular and awkward,
enfolded by your bed,
stretching and contracting
as you will in labour pains,
renew a primeval effort
to groove yourself
a bed in the bracken.

Tomorrow with your peacock eyelids

[Above: First 8 lines only]

[Author:] Anthony Fry
[Title:] Approximately Midnight Poem

Let me be
mysterious:      the world
is going round and passing
the same bacteria on its way
as it passed in
the time of Confucius.
But that is not
mysterious and I want

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 6]
[Author:] Les A. Murray
[Title:] The House of Four-X

Something over ten thousand
Beer bottles went to build
A house, once, in Queensland.

Something over ten thousand
Mullions of glitter and gloom
Fixed and cemented

And every one of them drained
As a point of honour

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 7]
[Author:] Les A. Murray
[Title:] The Ballad Trap

In the hanging gorges
The daring compact wears thin.
Picking meat from small skeletons,
Counting damp notes in a tin,

The rifle bird ringing at noon
In the steep woods.
Hard-riding boys dazed at the brink
Of their attitudes.

[Above: First 8 lines only]

[Author:] Mark Pallas, in fact John E. Tranter
[Title:] none

If every monster
grew into a portion of forest
he could make a home.

[Above: complete poem]


[Transit02 page 8]
[Author:] Patrick Alexander
[Title:] A Prophecy: (For John & Lyn)

It seems a dark land I have travelled
Since the war back there those years ago
I have escaped (too young, too coward to stay)
My travelling seems now a sombre time….

Just now, just here, the day is fresh, has a youth of light
and the dark restores her dreams that have no fear
and I look around, vigorous, for my future

Yet though this new land does not frighten, in itself,

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 9]
[Author:] Michael Dransfield
[Title:] Islands In Your Eyes? (for Kathy)

This is the silence of the Egyptian
atonal face. The chorist
sphinx, garden that grows
pavements with ballads chalked on them.
Give away your ponies, also the
excellent skies you have painted.
None of it is real, none of it
unreal. Eat

[Above: First 8 lines only]

[Author:] Michael Dransfield
[Title:] Burial of Sir John Moore at Corunna: Elegy

daystill, no
starfound gullsblown
over winedark swanroad;
seacliff windworn
timesmooth, but
treestark, sunscoured
makerburial forgotten

Dienow

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 10]
[Author:] David Rankin
[Title:] To A Traveller

You know every name
of every station on every
line throughout the state

You can recite the post
code numbers for all the
postal areas in Australia

Your knowledge of
world geography is

[Above: First 8 lines only]

[Author:] Bob Ellis
[Title:] The Hunter

Like a working journalist
      That writes to length
I measure out my nights
      To my loins’ strength

And force my good intent
      Girl’s trust and praise,
Sweet to- and- fro-ing talk —
      Into a chase.

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 11]
[Author:] Bob Ellis
[Title:] Club Room

The smoke exhaled from padded chairs
Invades like talk the upper airs
Of twirling fans that loop it back
And spread it over men’s affairs

Discussed in lowly types on racks
Of dim sensations let relax
On ageing wrinkled paper thin
Preservatives of fading facts.

[Above: First 8 lines only]

[Author:] Bob Ellis
[Title:] Visitors

A visited friend deprived of healing talk
By the friend or wife his friend brings home to tea
Feels after years of absence more betrayed.
As one in love betrayed, by this one lack.
And friends may not henceforth see eye to eye
But not because they cannot bind the void
Of absent years with talk, long silence, and more talk,
But because they jealously envy sharers of what

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 12]
[Author:] Rudi Kraussman
[Title:] Open riddle (translated from the German by Rudi Kraussman and Don Maynard)

The sum total
has dissolved into the air
Man
in the shadow of the riddle
holds on to the pattern

disturbed heroes
where do you bury your solitudes?
where do you put death

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 14]
[Author:] Peter J.F. Newton
[Title:] Women Sucking at a Wishbone

Wing and larded wishbone:
fingers plucking at a hen’s breast…

And seeing a sea through paling fence,
an oblong sea that plays
over the black wood yet leaves no sense,
no feel of play…

Gulls bleat into hoeing wind
urging my body – useless rind –

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 15]
[Author:] Peter Stephens
[Title:] Episode

I stand watching, and
the sparrows jagged fall
out of those blue, clouded
centuries
is like a white hand dipping
down into a river.

[Above: complete poem]

[Author:] Peter Stephens
[Title:] Lions & Tigers

Lions and tigers eat your footsteps
up, makes one wonder if you
really burnt the bridges. They’ll
follow you for years
and years, because you’re turning
into one of them.

They’ll follow you to bed
and listen while you scratch

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 16]
[Author:] Bronwen Gale
[Title:] Poem

More houses, more are cradling
under a cat black moon,
with yes a golder man
goldman in the moon.
Dolphin minds are making room for
blackcurrent trout to splash about;
taut as catgut, fraught
with a sea-foam fiction.

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 17]
[Title:]Journey: the North Coast
[Author:] Robert Gray

Next thing, I wake-up in a swaying bunk,
as though aboard a clipper on the sea,
and it’s the train, that booms and cracks,
it tears the wind apart.
Now the man’s gone
who had the bunk below me. I swing out,
cover his bed and rattle up the sash –
there’s sunlight to come teeming

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 18]
[Author:] George Woodger
[Title:] Australia Square Tower

Perforated upright exhaust cylinder
looking down on
people looking up to it
teetering.

[Above: complete poem]

[Author:] Brian Gorman, in fact Clem Gorman, later known as a playwright
[Title:] Epitaphs Seen From A Bus In Queensland

In a cave in that impossible old
mountain that hunches like a
gorilla there I waited for
you darling but
you must have been
on another bus.

When the tide was
ejaculating into that

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 19]
[Author:] Robert Adamson
[Title:] Francis Webb / Poet

don’t pity this naked mind that walks like a monk
over the windy sea that beats insane against the glass

past the wreckage of gardens washed on the wall
don’t pity my walking mad mind / because I saw a boy washed up

and I noticed the sea birds peck out his eyes
and I saw a glowing cross against his chest / and I laughed

from the window of my cell / and told the doctor
that I had seen a boy washed up / and that I’d laughed.

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 20]
[Author:] Robert Adamson
[Title:] Blue Marlin

A fibreglass rod leaps into the wind:
      automatic hands respond.
      A gamefish straps the yellow sea.
Nylon monofilament, a luminous green thread
      of fire
dislocates the symmetry of fish and sea.
      The marlin dives
and your mind swims with it.

[Above: First 8 lines only]

[Author:] Wilhelm Hiener
[Title:] Poem for a Fat Woman: Cream

I could not force my eyes away
From the fascination
Of her big white face
Compressed in concentration

One day I shall fall into
A huge tub of cream

[Above: complete poem]


[Transit02 page 21]
from MENTAL HOSPITAL
[Author:] Craig Powell
[Title:] I       NINE O’CLOCK

At night time on the neighbouring prison wall
the guard house blazes
round gun-toting silhouettes.
Morning, and the angry soot
heaves and grumbles out of the smoke stack.

I walk across the sports oval
past the schizophrenic gardener who is not
looking at the leaves under his rake.

[Above: First 8 lines only]

[Author:] Craig Powell
[Title:] II       EDDIE’S LETTER

To Frank Sinatra —
<         forget all this crud
I’m writing. Man, put it with trumpets and
electrical guitars. I
hope your marriage is all right
Oh rock it! Rock it! Man —
you’re the Power. Come and do something for me!

Three times a week somebody jabs a switch

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 22]
[Author:] Craig Powell
[Title:] III… THE WOMEN IN WARD 16

Walking among them makes you think of Dante
lost in some Purgatorio of shattered brides —
the agitation of knuckles, white robes
and — what else? — dropped wombs, varicose veins,
all the accoutrements of suffering.
                        Ridiculous
to attempt pity. At weekends I get out of the place.
I can go where I wish, being one

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 23]
[Author:] Garth Clarke
[Title:] Three Days After Good Friday

three days after good friday
as some neurosis nailed
my stomach to my spine
you expressed disappointment
that your easter egg wasn’t hollow.

three days after good friday
to escape our gethsemaniacal
wallpaper I went for a walk

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 24]
[Author:] Peter Spearrit
[Title:] first, please

come and
enter
here’s a
centre
for your
betterment
and rest.
we will all

[Above: First 8 lines only]

[Author:] Josef Lesser
[Title:] ‘Observing Mother’

It is empty, always empty
Your theatre.
You alone,
Move between rows.
Sit where you desire
For you alone the curtains rise.
I to the stage am no eyes,
They are your tears who

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 25]
[Author:] John E. Tranter
[Title:] Spring

Morning lifts its wet
green shoulder through the fiery orchard.
Under a blaze of golden scented apricots
the limbs lie correctly on the grass
sprayed with droplets — ‘it is cold
the tree thinks of green, noise in the thicket…”
Julie&@8217;s head is all soft, what to do?…

Now Mother cries      dwarfs!      in the hall!

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 26]
[Author:] jon clarke
[Title:] Poesy Ist

duologue between peeple
silently carried out,
forms the air flow’ring
from their tongues
into pristine clumps
that merge before the eye
can hear,
the lips, touch

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 27]
[Author:] randolph, in fact Wally Randolph
[Title:] along the watchtower.

Having long studied the glass
of painters such as Jeremy Self,
& being drawn to wipe out pedestals
where stateroom acres bear down mightily,
where nightly the lion comes down
in agonies of plaster;

Veered away to the left & found
acre by acre

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 28]
[Author:] Barry Elliott
[Title:] A Wry Comprehension (Unpublished Reply To A Morning Herald Poem)

What in hell were you doing, McAuley,
Unmasking a plot? Getting back
To whatever was under attack.
Let me say in a forward reply –
Though I’ve little idea of the use –
Things (obscurely) do keep moving
Without cause or pause, without proving.
Save life, anything, as this verse

[Above: First 8 lines only]


[Transit02 page 29]
[Author:] Barry Elliott
[Title:] Generation!

the bus pulls out of
the unyielding traffic
an infant blossoms

the bus blossoms
pulls out of an infant
the unyielding traffic

the bus an infant
pulls out of blossoms

[Above: First 8 lines only]

[Author:] Richard Tipping
[Title:] Pachydermatous Quadruped

hippopotamus.
clang clang clang

arr
      shit

[Above: complete poem]


[Transit02 page 30]

[Author:] Richard Tipping
[Title:] [none]

read
for
in
of
bliss
continuously
inside
poems
noticing
felt
in
another
door
behind
the
of
whispered
nothings
your
and
was
that
gripped
heart
it
monstrous
my
pocket
a
of
jesus
cancelled
life
expanded
foreverness

that
words
only
free

it
nothing
visions
anticapitalistic
floated
around
the
&
nothing
justified
closing
toilet
while
me
shadow
illumination
sweet
about
gift
it
then
it
my
ripped
bulged
from
left
with
cry
holy
i
my
&
into
now

was
for
lovelly
grass


[Transit02 page 31]
Vote 1 Rimbaud! Drawing by John Tranter
Vote 1 Rimbaud! Drawing by John Tranter

[This image was printed twice the current size on blue paper and many copies were posted around King’s Cross during a local municipal council election in 1968. JT 2016.]


[Transit02 page 32]
[Author:] Richard Tipping
[Title:] Perchance to Dream

how very i you are
said the lady
observing her reflection
in the mirror of her pride;
beside her a husband
thrusted with a section
of his tournament erection
and she died

[Above: complete poem]

[Author:] Paul Smith
[Title:] The Reward

In the silence of that Day of Silence
          she glanced
and in that look
          unimpaired by explanations
the funnels secret light leapt through
          sent me spiralling
towards the surface of escape.

On being asked

[Above: First 8 lines only]

[Inside Back cover, printed in blue ink:]

Other magazines which publish modern poetry are

The Great Auk
Charles Buckmaster
161 Royal Parade
Parkville VIC 3052

Crosscurrents
P.O. Box 100
Heidelberg West VIC 3081

MOK
Box 1454L G.P.O.
Adelaide
S.A. 5001

Our Glass
21 Queensbury Street
Carlton
Vic. 3053

Poetry Australia
350 Lyons Road
Fivedock
N.S.W. 2046

Poetry Magazine
Box 110 George St. North P.O.
N.S.W. 2000


 

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