Citation
Great Lake Review - Fall 1974

Material Information

Title:
Great Lake Review - Fall 1974
Series Title:
Great Lake Review
Publisher:
SUNY Oswego
Publication Date:
Language:
English

Subjects

Genre:
serial ( sobekcm )

Notes

Abstract:
CO-EDITORS JOE WIECHA MARK WAHL ASSOCIATE EDITOR DEBORAH DEACONS FICTION EDITOR MARILYN HABERSKI POETRY EDITOR CHERYL A. GRESSANI ( ,, )
Scope and Content:
THE GREAT LAKE REVIEW VOLUME II NUMBER 1 NOVEMBER 1974 POETRY Cheryl A. Gressani Nightfall of Nuance 2 Scott Regan To Whoever First Thought ofDeath in a Barrell 4 The Chill Factor in the Black Sky Current 13 John Knapp II The Cage ofRue Morgue 6 Mail Pouch 7 Mark Wahl The Sorcerer 9 Untitled 26 Diane Shaljian Intelligencia 10 Marga Gomez Untitled 12 Joe Wiecha In the Old Wind Now Rises Your Spirit (or) A Paleo Indian Bison Kill Adapted From Joe Ben Wheat and Made Wider by Joe Wiecha 16-21 S. Miller Love as Shoplifting 24 Tom Lowerre Living Backward in Time 28 Merz Atlan Sunset 29 Donald Harrison Star 30 The Mad Sister 30 ARTWORK Cover Design: Detail of Untitled Drawing by AI Blemmer DRAWINGS Mike Murabito Untitled 8 Jodi Bamel Untitled 10 Joe Wiecha How Are You? 16 Al Bremmer Untitled 23 Jim Johnson Untitled 27 PAINTINGS Kathryn A. Timm Pinking Shears 5 Maria Tomaselli Self Portrait 25 PHOTOGRAPHS Peter Kandilou Untitled 3 PRINTS Nancy Nevich A Love (Etching) II Ants (Etching) 15 Different States ofa Single Moment 32 Kay Kraushaar Untitled (Lithograph) 14 Paul Hannon . Untitled (Lithograph) 22 Maria Tomoselli Dance Series # I The Dancer (Lithograph) 31
General Note:
Great Lake Review is SUNY Oswego's student-edited literary and art magazine. Great Lake Review is published, in general, every semester, and contains primarily student art work, poetry, fiction, and other literary works.

Record Information

Source Institution:
|SUNY Oswego Institution
Holding Location:
Sobek Digital Hosting & Consulting
Rights Management:
This item is licensed with the Creative Commons Attribution No Derivatives License. This license allows for redistribution, commercial and non-commercial, as long as it is passed along unchanged and in whole, with credit to the author.

Downloads

This item has the following downloads:


Full Text

PAGE 1

... .:..' ..: .'. : ";':':: :'. :. ., ... '". of ... .:.:" :', "0" ..., o ....' .. .. 'v'" .... ,'"0 : ;-""". \ .... ...... ...=.. .... ......:. :':'.:.:. eo. : : .' .. .. ....:.,.. ; '0 ; '. 0 v. f/. .',.. ..{. 0'0, ........'' ". !'... .' "' '0 .:,,-. REVIEW NOVEMBER, 1974

PAGE 2

I I I CO-EDITORS JOE WIECHA MARK WAHL ASSOCIATE EDITOR DEBORAH DEACONS FICTION EDITOR MARILYN HABERSKI POETRY EDITOR CHERYL A. GRESSANI This magazine is made possible, in part, by funds provided by the Student Association of SUNY at Oswego. Published quarterly. Editorial office, Hewitt Union. All rights reserved, Copyright 1974, The Great Lake Review. Artwork and manuscripts may be delivered to The Great Lake Review Office (formerPendulum) or to the editors.

PAGE 3

THE GREAT LAKE REVIEW VOLUME II NUMBER 1 NOVEMBER 1974 POETRY Cheryl A. Gressani Nightfall ofNuance 2 Scott Regan To Whoever First Thought ofDeath in a Barrell 4 The Chill Factor in the Black Sky Current 13 John Knapp II The Cage ofRue Morgue 6 Mail Pouch 7 Mark Wahl The Sorcerer 9 Untitled 26 Diane Shaljian Intelligencia 10 Marga Gomez Untitled 12 Joe Wiecha In the Old Wind Now Rises Your Spirit (or) A Paleo Indian Bison Kill Adapted From Joe Ben Wheat and Made Wider by Joe Wiecha 16-21 S. Miller Love as Shoplifting 24 Tom Lowerre Living Backward in Time 28 Merz Atlan Sunset 29 Donald Harrison Star 30 The Mad Sister 30 ARTWORK Cover Design: Detail of Untitled Drawing by AI Blemmer DRAWINGS Mike Murabito Untitled 8 Jodi Bamel Untitled 10 Joe Wiecha How Are You? 16 Al Bremmer Untitled 23 Jim Johnson Untitled 27 PAINTINGS Kathryn A. Timm Pinking Shears 5 Maria Tomaselli Self Portrait 25 PHOTOGRAPHS Peter Kandilou Untitled 3 PRINTS Nancy Nevich A Love (Etching) II Ants (Etching) 15 Different States ofa Single Moment 32 Kay Kraushaar Untitled (Lithograph) 14 Paul Hannon Untitled (Lithograph) 22 Maria Tomoselli Dance Series #I The Dancer (Lithograph) 31

PAGE 4

I I Nightfall of Nuance One We stand at this intercourse of designin an abyss where devils hiss and snap their teeth. Tails struck from Lake shale plug escape. None aid this distress. They have shu t the door, and, with sparkling pupils, blinded us. Two Through passage within, sucking heardtheir snarl a grimace we dare not regard. The Ooor grasps my belly. Your palms bleed. We swallow stench, feeling Our stomach heave. Suction pulls spart sinews of muscular control. We are losing. Lost, in webs of capiJIary, we suspend. Three Hole hurling spit, we extradite lengthtails wrenched from sockets. Knocking humid walls of labyrinth, and choosing each other as victim, our retreat is procurred. Twisting closses about swollen necks, we forge out of depth, leaping. Cheryl A. Gressani 2 /

PAGE 6

To whoever first thought of death in a barrel Try to enjoy the splendor of his fall Limp into black splashes in a rigid shell as gulls circled overhead like buzzards on a desert mocking His rain barrel cell is splasWess Undisturbed but by waiting and knocks on the wall muffled lovers calls from honeymoon rooms vantage points, and thunder from the Falls. He must have heard the knock on his door, faintly. The oak staves dulling it and gulls diving headlong, crying mocks of suicide. The knocks he had survived to surface to obsession with rooftop drips, and underwater solitude, haunts in his glass fish bowl world, pain slipped away without struggle like brandy on an idle afternoon. Then, floating alone on the river the misty thunder muffled, distant, like a storm in the wind, he hesitates on an edge pool with the peace of birds chirming before a storm. Scott Regan 4

PAGE 7

5

PAGE 8

II II The Cage of Rue Morgue I pick fleas off my stomach for the polaroids locked into the outside. I have two score years to leap about my box, two rolling-pin trapezes to oscilla te between and make dizzy little boys' eyes zig-zag. The little boys wonder at the whiteness of my teeth, how far the eyes and hair go. They would enter all my dreams at once. watch me slip between the bars at full moon to jump the keeper of the pails, razor off his head, and stuff it up his chimney. (But if they catch me in this dream, I'll rattle my eyes at the judge like lemons in one-armed bandits, tatoo his bench with four pounding little fists.) On my bench I have forty years to watch the tigers chase their tails into margarine, forty years to feel the wires of my thighs grow stiff, and the window end of every giggling polaroid in the world. John Knapp II 6

PAGE 9

Mail Pouch For Robert Bly Everyone take a deep breath, the Surgeon General is recalling lungs. Up the gravel road comes the rural carrier in a gray Cadillac. All the women solemnly wait on three-legged stools over pails and knives. Every sheet hangs on the line. At the sign of the f1ag the men open their shirts. The Post person's strokes are deft and quick, the women rinsing his hands a t every pause. Now, down the road he goes with all our balloons. Bluebibs never hung so loose. "What's to be done?" the children ask. "Will they make them smaller and scrape them like toast?" "Or even as small as a golf ball, can they press them into brick to fire the burger?" "Or even yet smaller to sticks of lead so people could sharpen the ends and write?" "Would this be right?" "To foreknow is to be forewarned," the mothers nod. Now there is wood to gather and cows to be milked. The skinny boys with birch in their teeth don't say much. They move to the old boots and climb in. John Knapp II 7

PAGE 10

1 I /

PAGE 11

The Sorcerer Watch the sun, tumbling back, chases shadows into long rays of night. The haze of morning past wanes into frost, into sleep. Rest here in this blue abandon, beyond the perfunctory madness of time won elements; beyond the temples where breasts of infants nourish crumbling granite gods. Mark Wahl Mike Murabito Drawing, Mixed Media 9

PAGE 12

Intelligencia As if goaded by some swollen fervor hours are consumed. They are engulfed with extended pubic regions, lights dimmed, the eyes protrude with the redundant throbbing smirk. To this the secular search. Catapults into linear liaison with the mundane. Diane Shaljian 10 //

PAGE 13

Nancy Nevich Etching 17W' x 22W' II

PAGE 14

1 am Miss Subways the eight'th Avenue sweetheart. [ wear chewing gum in my eyes and every perfect tooth is an electric beam dancing from head to lowered head of my captive audience. Someday, [ will marry a doctor or become a professional model but now [ ride to Macy's every morning to sell underwear on the second floor. My picture is smiling at me a million people away. And just before every stop five fingers (giggling mostly) fly right up my shirt. Marga Gomez 12 /

PAGE 15

To the chill factor in the black sky and current Churning, warning the unseeing wanderer of cold points And sharp steel surface pain, the black night water Gnaws at a shore of age and rock. What percipitents have fallen here? Below The alley backwash and parking spots, and Frozen fences of chipping pain t. What dreams have drowned here? and Dreamers gone home alone, (Damned,) frigid spec tors, to plod about, (Or) lie useless in terse, tempered sheets. What few survivors seem content! Being stabbed but once or less through Cloth and leather guise (besides the woolen Caps and winter wear!) I care to see their flash! To brush it against the burning river wind, Bare. Ripped and worn like cracking cement. Will they wonder why they dared? Or why anyone should care to burn In this tempest wind red faced, Hot, stiff and hurting In throbs and aching, Tension about to break, Naked, Face to face with the black, cold unfreezing river. It is a charitable pain that savors itself And spices the wounded with the want of wounding again. Scott Regan 13

PAGE 16

Kay Kraushaar Color Lithograph

PAGE 17

HAnts" Nancy Nevich Etching J7W'x llW' 15

PAGE 18

I I In the Old Wind now Rises your Spirit I (or) A Paleo-Indian Bison Kill Adapted From Joe Ben Wheat And Made Wider by Joe Wiecha NOTE In my time as in yours, I am with all the same parts; eyes, nose, mouthmy heart beating blood and my two feet stepping on this Earth just as you would, 16 / two legs striding and my sense sharp for the hunt as you could

PAGE 19

THE HUNT So I bring gifts to my woman and make my sons strong. (Just as you would) But also as you in your slow softness never could. This is a battle ofmy time only. (With your tools you have found the site of our great kill). The kill of the Bison. A gift to my people from the Good Spirit. (With your good machines you have uncovered the flow of blood that white bone testifies to. And you show your sons the life we had here.) The life we took. IN THE WIND ROSE THE DARK WARMTH OF THE EARTH You know by the words of your words that the earth will continue to speak for the dead. 17

PAGE 20

For our spirits who linger above this valley, our lives that flowed so well down the little stream, south to the big water. And you know that the trees were heavy with leaves under the wannth of the early summer sun. THE KILL BEGINS Out from the green prairie bottoms, up where the blue spirit waits with his clouds throwing great shadows over all us below. Us going quick on hard feet with weapons of the hunt, our spears tipped with the hardest of stones and sharpenened slowly, surely by good hands burned brown as faces, as backs and rippling calves. As our steady eyes saw the herds grazing in small, comfortable bunches, then drinking of the little stream, cows nursing the young, young bulls testing their new strength, the old ones just feeling the sun. 18 /

PAGE 21

In these strong herds lay our life. The blood rushing through muscle, the strength of bone, the meat that would enter our souls as spirit. So we lay still with the wind at our faces carrying the scent of our tense bodies safely away and made spears steady, made the spirits ready. NOW SUDDENLY As the herd grazed part of our band approached from the north; (silent like snakes in hot sand and so slow even the sun didn't know) Then more came from the west, and more from the eastern slope. The herd faced the pit. There was no escape but forward, trapped down into the empty river bed, tumbling, squealing, the roaring mass terrified by our mighty shouts fell. 19

PAGE 22

THE KILL Spears sinking into huge brown bodies, blood so red that only blood can be and voices so horrible as only death can free the herd from this pain of the arroyo. And still The Great Spirit watched. He shook the earth with the tumbling herd and filled the wind with the stench of their defeat and our triumph rising flames up,up to our sons and up, up to yours as this triumph will be repeated. As our feast will continue for thousands of seasons and all Spirits will triumph with us, with, then, you. 20

PAGE 23

YOU MUST NOT FORGET It is this that I repeat: my hands are yours as your da ta tests, my heart beats as yours and I die as you will, and love as you do. My difference is that I am a man of the past, my monuments buried in sand-my works on the walls of caves, my life hidden by the spirit of the earth and her old companions. If you would know yourself then know me, know me by the earth; go on your hands and knees as I did. Look for me under the dust of years in the dirt of the good earth and hold your spears steady, I am waiting. Paul Hannon Untitled Lithograph lS"xll" 21

PAGE 24

,, /

PAGE 25

Al Bremmer Drawing Mixed Medilz 17x 23

PAGE 26

Love as Shoplifting Whai are you doing out here? Out here, Over the wet back of the street The rolling, reptile-back, cracked And gutted I swing I sway In my perilous perch. This little yellow light throbs on, Like the beat of a heart-Animal heart. Stopping, after llight at the brink of a hill shaggy with grass Eyes darting-back to the underbrush Muscles in the neck twitching. What are you doing Out here, Hooded in the metal housing Tipping, tipping just slightly And the wire pulled tau t I crouch I see .; I Myself suspended \ What Slithering Stealthily out along the wire Inching to that little place There was nowhere else to go. You can run, and you won't get caught You can go through dark places and Animals find their way over rocks and People walk right out without paying Their pockets full, their pockets crammed. You can get on your stomach(Right down on your stomach) And crawl right out. What What doing What are you doing out here? It dizzies me still. s. Miller 24 Self Portrait Maria Acrylic on u

PAGE 28

We have been offered peace within a small dark sphere knit with fraying cables once used to drag foreward influence at a safe distance When the straining wires snapped and were spliced and again and again were trimmed and tied, The distance became too short and you felt the heat of your persuasion The knots were too manly, too large and were worn like jagged facial scars So the wires were cu t They sprang loose twisting thrashing pain into a tangled, barbed wire calm Mark Wahl I 26

PAGE 29

Jim Johnson Untitled Drawing Pencil 12W'xlJ" 27

PAGE 30

, ,, Living Backward in Time For Anne I I suffered this earth In the season of ru t And lived with the salt of the sea in my blood by birth I would never sing I wore no rings II We came down out of the skies on thunderpods We followed the rivers through foothills and fields We broke our feet against the ocean Lay half in the waves, our sleep unbroken By the reawakening of racial memory ... III The sea is the terrestrial womb. Entropy is the slow drift downward Past the amihos, where they sunder. The dance of the dioxides And the peptides, shot with lightning Shake off the enthralling chains: Love is in the aminos; In the white cha:ns of acid rings Life is the link between two lifeless things. Tom Lowerie 28

PAGE 31

Merz Atlan Sunset For Anne She's sailed to High Himalaya And on to Abysinnian plains With mortar of agate and alchemists stone She draws gold [rom iron And water, from gold; Of all lives distilled from her Water, none need make her old. When a Terran takes a lady such as this, He asks more of the world than wife. As winds take ship's cloth into Merz Atla'n sunset She took, and would not give me back my life. Then, one night offMerz Atliln A thousand torches on the wa ter; The many crying from the ship's prow To met landsmen on the waves below. Highlanders take the seaward roads And sailors break their bond with sea, Flotsam kingdoms dry high in the sun There will come many minglings of blood Await upon the vernal moon To stand again against the Oood. 29 Tom Lowerie

PAGE 32

Star The Mad Sister I hear your song from the garden where they let you wander during the day. I hear your voice as you sing your beads behind this wall. Child of our father, I know that the tangles of vines within trip your feet, tear your skin and pull at you like a comb in twisted hair. Among the weeds and thorns that surround your feet, you drop a bead at a time and cover each with a handful of soft dirt. She couldn't remember wether he said 11 falling star or a shooting star All she could remember was a line drawn across the sky Donald Harrison Donald Harrison 30 /

PAGE 33

31 ) Dance Series No.1 "Dancer" Maria Tomaselli Lithograph lO"x 7"

PAGE 34

/

PAGE 35

The Great Lake Review Sponsors A Poetry Reading Au thors of works accepted for publication in The Greal Lake Review will be invited to participate in our first semi-annual reading January 1975. Date to be announced.