DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Diablerie, February 1944

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Diablerie, February 1944

Page 15

                      PERIOD PIECE
              They met at the break of day
              Out by the old royal way.
              Where the trees from a screen that is 
              virginal green
              And the dasies are gamin and gay.
              The customary chatter with the seconds
              With the seconds. And the latter
              Wish the business over with and done:
               The sky has yet to light; the dawn wind 
               boasts a bite
              That makes the gentry yearn to feel the sun.
              Preliminaries and - 
             The figures meet and bend
             As if controlled by strings that end in hands
            Belonging to some mind that understands
            The why of this.
                          "En garde!"
            At last the blades leap through the air
            Like living flames that hover here and 
            there, 
            Then dart past guard through breast
            To heart and life. A strangled cry
            And one figure managed gracefully to die.
            A sorry thankless task at best . . . 
                                         (I jest!)
            The marquis sees the tremors pass,
            Lord Joslyn here has breathed his last.
            "Ah fie!" the marquis cried, "he's bloodied 
            up the grass!"
                                            —Lea

        WINTER NIGHT THOUGHTS
All is dark in the house.
Far out in the street I can hear fireflies buzzing in the telephone boxes.
The electric sparks of the stars hum softly in the cabbage-patch.
Trams roar distantly into hell

And the night
Is like a pint of oblivion inside a milk bottle
Or a star scintillating in an electric-blue mirror
(Comets; dying suns; withered roots!)
This is the time when flabby things flap heavily in the loft and dress-makers' dummies are to be seen down under the pine tree . . .
This is the night
When notes and geese sprout from the lawn and symphonies sound from earpipes.
Descent into hell: 
Somebody drops a wooden cube on the floor.
           —Galvin Greenless Jr - Reprinted from Pertinent

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PERIOD PIECE They met at the break of day Out by the old royal way. Where the trees from a screen that is virginal green And the dasies are gamin and gay. The customary chatter with the seconds With the seconds. And the latter Wish the business over with and done: The sky has yet to light; the dawn wind boasts a bite That makes the gentry yearn to feel the sun. Preliminaries and - The figures meet and bend As if controlled by strings that end in hands Belonging to some mind that understands The why of this. "En garde!" At last the blades leap through the air Like living flames that hover here and there, Then dart past guard through breast To heart and life. A strangled cry And one figure managed gracefully to die. A sorry thankless task at best . . . (I jest!) The marquis sees the tremors pass, Lord Joslyn here has breathed his last. "Ah fie!" the marquis cried, "he's bloodied up the grass!" —Lea WINTER NIGHT THOUGHTS All is dark in the house. Far out in the street I can hear fireflies buzzing in the telephone boxes. The electric sparks of the stars hum softly in the cabbage-patch. Trams roar distantly into hell And the night Is like a pint of oblivion inside a milk bottle Or a star scintillating in an electric-blue mirror (Comets; dying suns; withered roots!) This is the time when flabby things flap heavily in the loft and dress-makers' dummies are to be seen down under the pine tree . . . This is the night When notes and geese sprout from the lawn and symphonies sound from earpipes. Descent into hell: Somebody drops a wooden cube on the floor. —Galvin Greenless Jr - Reprinted from Pertinent