Thursday, August 31, 2017

Kristen de Kline #137 Some days

Some days the Gods   smile
your friends laugh so loud you

want to bottle it,   spray it around
your house like a perfumed mist

Some days the blog poems don't write
themselves, words go missing in action like stray

bullets ricocheting in the woods of the undisclosed
locations you vanished into down Lawless Way

Some days you hear rumblings in the stalls
a friend dresses up in faux leopard skin attire

for a marriage equality rally   she confesses
she'd rather not be at   instead she'd rather    dance

the night

Some days you hear it again, the echoing of laughter
friends talking, walking you through the field of mines

friends, they forward you a collection of Yoko Ono poems
a postcard from Bath that takes three and a half months to arrive
a lawless poet says she has space: if you need to flee just come North
a bag of blood oranges waits on the front door, friends

Some days I swear I hear you ranting, you do
know, we burn your words in the backyard, bury

your lines under rich top soil and manure, underneath
the tomato bushes you used to say would be a good

place to dispose of bodies   Some days your emails
go directly to the Spam folder and I press Delete and

I enjoy it     Some days they say it's not about sweet
revenge   it's about learning you can't win 'em all...

Some days I dance

smile, laugh so loud
you can't capture it

Kerri Shying R - # 313 - The Provenance


I haven’t used the filing cabinet
sweet oak  finely cut

since the incident
five years ago  when

he took my drafts and
stuffed them in the rubbish

I saw pages  specked
with tea leaves  stinking

of the sushi  he took for lunch
at work    after that I was

the squirrel  I held it all
inside my cheeks

and put on forty pounds
of firm hard flesh

a hundred  more
of inconsequential data

kept tchotchkes            the driftwood
round the hollow logs

of safety       so today
I climbed this tree

the sky all blues
my heart  fast-beating

kept the rhythm

Kit Kelen #607 - it begins

it begins

for Cat

harder with the barrow
harder with the spade, the fork
harder uphill
and more timid down

the spread ache
like a gift of dance
turns us through days

it begins
all the years of us
counted, amaze

things from the year of my birth
are surviving

all breakfast to consider
we like a list

the sky as in
here rain fell
you listen to the roof now

harder to remember
harder to forget

there’s nothing much
before our time
except somehow we’ve to be

strain is a gift
of knowledge to come

the cough comes on

what we know now would kill a dog

lights burn in the mirror behind us
head height in front
why are they shouting now?

cough goes on
every god clamours for prayer
so let them

let fools tell fear
let them tell what can’t be known

as if other bodies
were anticipated

we know better

chime in with wise saws
drowse in the day
now that sleep’s wakeful

the forgetting begins
that’s a deep forest
it’s almost as far as we can remember

is there a doctor will beat on this chest?
when did this cough begin?

inches closer – the fatal star
the sun we cannot know

it begins

harder with the barrow
harder with the spade, the fork
harder uphill
more timid down

out here radio still crackles
you can hiss back too

the worse the news
the less surprise

get over yourself
is what they all say

nod off in the show
rage fades with wisdom

where’s love to shelter?

a mind’s eye glint persisting

we head off salt and pepper
we come back full of snow

children see in your hands
the amazement of time
like blood now that you know where it goes

the world is heavier
we must tread lightly

I think it must be beginning today

and yet we’re still to shine

Rob Schackne #450 - Since You Asked (3)

Since You Asked (3)

Light searches
for lightness
for the dance
a wave here
a light there
in darkness
dance floor
sea floor
the night
ends so fast

the writing room
that stretches
to the edge
do they know
call it zenith
call it radio
or a poem
my dancing theme


Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Kerri Shying R - # 312 - The writing room

The writing room

Inside the sweet small
 space of home

where all familiar scent

gold waves the arm
 my lucky cat   counts time

a metronome 
 the breath of life intoned

part-made dolls are travelers
  in here  this study    burgeoning

my life  it washes on the shore  unreason
is the filer’s taxonomy 

 and chancing

on the hour  when
lightness  dances through

that door

Kit Kelen #606 - an idea entertains me

an idea entertains me

all birds are otherworldly

trees are for forage landed
find the light lost in the ground

we don’t know how to live here

who knows what else is to dig?

a hole is
or ever will

we, by contrast, are habitable

all feet
but we have never landed

twirl up for which we’re best remembered

they leave by the light far flown

a wind tears off
what we call the news soon passed

the border is the thing let grow

day and night

they have sung in
we call it that

we are joining
taken by the air

they leave by the light far flown

the spore of life
was every world distinct
and all its own idea

is it thinking makes so?
we’ll never know

it’s lovely here to be home

James Walton #70 A Bandelier of Xcruciating Lovingkindness

by these crossed arms
the spoon of my not so supple being
arcs in your direction
unadjusted by daylight saving
our out of fashioned days linger
reading back lines no better than
these fourteen hours
of love and talk and warmth
the cloudless complexion of life apparent
beyond an end of Winter haze

Rob Schackne #449 - Since You Asked (2)

Since You Asked (2)

Everything is
the same
only everyone
is speaking

so much ghost
as Kit almost wrote
soul atom
scratch down
where I was swimming before

yes the fear
of not writing
into the emptiness

a light touch 
it needs it
the same way
in the shell
the airfield directs
soldiers get
on the trucks 

and go back home

Kristen de Kline #136 Emptiness

I said nothing for a long time
the emptiness was chattering, heavily
why did I think emptiness would be

poems were not writing themselves
they paused on hash tags numbers titles
down they rained:
litigation blues
bureaucratic slime
broken things
pints in the sun
birthday parties for dead girls
poetry, words and
fucked up things

soldiers shouted in the streets
convoys left before dawn
returned in the midnight hour
somebody tells you to fill the emptiness
with poetry paintings God
somebody tells you at the end of the day
what matters doesn't matter
and what doesn't matter  ...
languishes       out the back of Lawless
you listen to sirens     soldiers
shouting     heavy metal
thumping   you think about broken days stolen
hearts     the heaviness of emptiness
strangers     disappearing
all sorts of fucked up things

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

Kit Kelen #605 - the work

the work
(in silence)

comes to us courtesy of
truth to be told

here’s the moment
makes morning of

I am that speck in spectacle
soul atom

scratch down
where I was swimming before

out of the other world
make the clock home

all the day’s pockets a traffic roar
and chime of next-to-do

fair frost out there
so it’s telling tea

here where the sun says
east of us in

through glass
let to light

things come to their definite lines
as if meant

from under some stray fold of I am
pages poke out

blank to be written
and already there

mainly eavesdropping
just noting what’s

breath at a time – the inspiration
skins scroll back to reveal

how the world is written
I believe everything will wait on

just one star shone
just me alight, just now

companion of the word, the way
just you to hear and see

Monday, August 28, 2017

Rob Schackne #448 - Get Up The Scaffold

Get Up The Scaffold

Billions of worlds 
I had to choose from
a thousand people on one bike
fucked it up real quick
lie cheat and grab
we grabbed this one
we’d had any sense
we’d have feared our own

and fought much harder
but lay me out with care
don't think I'll be walking down
innocence or experience
I sometimes forget
between this day
and the next
nothing wins

Rob Schackne #447 - Since You Asked (1)

Since You Asked (1)

At the end of a dream
you try to reach for them
but your arms are pinned
they are shouting out
crying libera nos a malo
there are sparkling birds
and no one else except
the people in the hole
you shout for help
but voice has no sound
when help does arrive
they push you into the hole

night falls and the stars arise
you wake up and make some coffee
and wonder about the broken day

Kit Kelen #604 - telling my story

telling my story

sit up and bark

once we were seldom and few

stump and waterbright
hard to see
hard to know

parrots carry the tree

clouds carry like a ladder across

before the song
I think everything was
hadn't meant to be

was anything always?

not even a street
less alley
as in shadow fell

well where I have gathered
and drew

here's me in that mirror
and look for you there

how tiny I've got with the distance

tell everyone
tell everyone's story

I find my voice in all things
they have a voice in me

Rob Schackne #446 - After Du Fu


      After Du Fu

       The emptiness
       takes leave
       time passes
       the speaker
       is erased
       absence fills
       with memory
       everyone is
       the same
       everyone only

Sunday, August 27, 2017

Kristen de Kline - #135 Somewhere behind the clouds

Friday night, sweet smelling dope wafts
lazily from the crack house down the street

sirens circle our apartment, tangle with crackly
music from the squat, loud riffs of "Smoke on the Water"

light up the 'burb, turn a deeper shade of purple
bruises, love-bites lining my flesh, winding

their way up my neck like a fresh ink job
blue etched tear-drops fall   slowly

bleed me dry


At the back of our rental, another crack house
fire-bombed, tagged with random letters: P S K G

lime green graffiti break-dances along the back fence     more
sirens, we can tell the difference now between ambos and cops,

another riff, "Stairway to Heaven", three blue uniforms run past
the front door     one of them's out of sync, I can hear him

wheezing, out of breath     you ask: do you feel safe here?
what   sort   of   a   dumb   question   is   that

Last time we caught up

I was drowning in water
and in wine

soldiers shouted in the streets

I watched stars    fall

and convoys leave at dawn    then dusk
then dawn     again

I saw the stars, saw how they shined
for you


Kit Kelen #603 - point vanishing

point vanishing

life's a flash
and then you're ash

you don't see me when I disappear

I could have decided to be someone once
but there really isn't a moment for that

every name slips from the thing it was

it's all in tomorrow not coming – I'm here
it's already happened

the poem turns into news

like a meteorite so called
because struck

there isn't the moment to say

it's like these words you won't remember

wake up one morning
and you're the dinosaur
and not in the room anymore

ash or under earth
last bone speck
borne off

is the creature even invented yet?

so many beginnings life is
so strange to be here

Saturday, August 26, 2017

Rob Schackne #445 - "Fight night"

Fight night
two opposites
not Mayweather
not McGregor
twelve rounds
good versus evil
a good right cross
a knockout ah
let the angel say

now fuck off
we finally rest
this foolishness

Kit Kelen #602 - shopping in the boxes

shopping in the boxes

lost among the all-I-have

so many languages to forget
like a drawer of socks goes on forever
so much light lost to looking

and a map's like that
all further than the eye
that's the whole point

planets there revolve
round stars we can no longer name

the ornaments are gathered dust
and everywhere we've been
must still smell of us

down to delve

indulgences of this church remain
like so much paper scratched

you'd never know though
the furniture of where I sat
the bed of where I lay

love, too lies curled in its precious corner
must be found out

there isn't where you catch up with yourself
but where else could you go?

mainly you'd call it clothing
it's for a statue gathers snows
and mud, cracked sun
for every weather

all at the night at the foot of those stairs
some old magic settled
like dust beam moted ages past
dark blizzard nights
and crash through atmospheres to home
and to hold

the precious long lost
roll into a little ball
come cockroach to its corner

same old bone as dug from scratch
buried all alone

and among the all-that's-lost
one wonders to be here
one wonders to be at all

Rob Schackne #444 - "yes I hear it all"

yes I hear it all
salt and vinegar
piss and wind
the scream of the butterfly
the mosquito of course

we want the world
a tender sound
I hear you Issa

gently buzzing
like a rusting radar
ticking at the stars

Friday, August 25, 2017

Kit Kelen #601 - a star fell

a star fell

out of a rabbit's hat

tiger dust
all as-if

glimpse and then gone
that's how we're lived

like a highway
lost us
in the getting here

all kinds of animals
I am
aren't you?

and only
as each imagines

flight winged
where else?

now lit

all as noted
made mind's-eye
and having hoofed

paws forward
I'm typing direct
onto the screen

into the lake reflected sky

it's in the deeps
I follow along
fine fish

just with some casual phrasing
cloud scud
and frayed so far
you can't hear anymore

it's like a poem
is working on me

as if I'd been led
at the worm's first turning

as if now it's for me
to sort out it out

to work out
how to go on

Kerri Shying R #311 - Bee fly low

Bee fly low

how like the flower   I am
no  twenty four hour  news cycle

a closed umbrella   at nightfall
shy against the moon  

churning  dreams  expelling
colour to the dawn

Rob Schackne #443 - "Alas, this is not treasure"

Alas, this is not treasure
archeologists will only say
what rubbish, how it ended up
in the middle of the Pacific
what manner of people were they
nothing benign is cast away
whether poem or plastic bag
food refused, ideas discarded
yesterday or the day before
the future they didn't want
why is this a sermon, won't
you say it's more rubbish
the ocean has its own problems

it ebbs and flows without us
it gazes sweetly at the moon?

Thursday, August 24, 2017

Kerri Shying R # 310 Behold, it's REM!

Behold, it's REM!

strain the day for dreams 
that came the night before

wiry tales of justice  meet  the verdicts
spoken  bony cage  reverberate the

house band  for your  funky blood-sponge  heart  
  keep pumping  for the morning  let  the grey

come gold to blue  the thin ice
overwritten   with one more

little clue see  more time strains
pop stars up and die the world wind blows

below your feet  
it's sleep

Kit Kelen #600 - the day beginning where I am

the day beginning where I am

and by itself unaided

my stain spread

and how for you?

much thus
it was to be expected

light come to us
for miracle

who'll call Earth's turn other?

I'm all miracle myself
so far from understanding

I might as well be

in the great scheme

I'm here
and every corner's

come to light

then shadows
gather me indoors

as thought

and now you see
the scale of things

and there you are

and now there's
all to do

Rob Schackne #442 - Tibetan Bang (redux)

Tibet Bang

A magic pudding
I’m a bit dismayed
I often write about war
now this peace & quiet
the waist-high snow-line
leads me high into Tibet
& except for the hundred
wheels of no impression
why should I be angry
I’ve spun it all my life 

(how many has it been)
the ice melts of a season
soldiers shout in the streets
convoys leave one day
history what a con
yessir just a vapour

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Kristen de Kline #134 Somewhere

it happens in stages   unravelling
different incarnations, amped up

speeds,  fleeing places people things
seems to happen except the rain comes down

relentlessly, drenches the front door mat
seeps into the garage under the aluminum

roller door     clouds burst, the dam breaks
open that way or this     didn't see that coming,
did you?

it happens in stages   fleeing
lie low
lose yourself and lose time

you wake out of a dream within another dream about another life another you    

you scribble a line, something about another day    
does it burn, burst  

is the day as blue    as    the sky is here,    is it
as    faded    as the afternoon light, somebody sneaks
in a kiss - where did that come from?

it doesn't matter how far we've gone
it is never    where you I him her    wants us to be
doesn't matter how I speak, how I
break   it just doesn't
make any sense

at the end of the day
we bury stray feelings
in poems
tangle them up in lawless
lines, wayward words

at the end of the day
we drown in water
and  in wine

Kerri Shying R # 309 - The NDIS say no then it changes it's mind and says yes takes my things away

The NDIS says no then it changes it's mind and says yes takes my things away

point me to the smart measuring
accountant’s  rapacity trajectory 

that says I can be
or not be  let to plan  up my
next year  forget
I am not a business  forget

that it is sending me to the darkest
spaces  of untrust   the transactional

temple-gunner  with a ticking timer
has returned    and sends me letters

sends me forms  tells me
get this by then  and he will say

if I am deserving of the things
I already have   the limp the nightmares

the falling over breaking bones
a webster pak  and constant pain  I don’t

know if I have it in me to convince these dills
again  or if I will just slide away

leave something better whole

Kit Kelen #599 - take a line and run with it

take a line and run with it

think of the first track ever
long before an ant stepped out

there had to be some twinkle twinkle
meant a world went round
on track I mean
some satellite followed

there was no meaning then however
we still cast an eye around

puppy and sniff
who’s been here before?

I said first on the island
brought the bush to heel

a generation polished chrome

could be a dribble of ink
or instruments misread

a hairline crack unravelling
so you’re in two minds

fish reeled in
lines intersect

take one and follow

where those wings went
now it’s blue

traipse about, saunter
follow a line and lose your way

lie low

have a sense of them on your tail
lose them too

and they were reading my every move
or I must have imagined it

now where are we?
where has this got us?
are you following this?