Kit Kelen #952 - enough room in my heart

952

enough room in my heart 

 

for this voice

for my calling

for nakedness

spring cum summer

for the counterfactual and the truth

sweet nothings

and secrets to whisper

all yours

for cadences

for falls of light

for every flower to open

enough room for

frontiers to cross

make mountains of

and swim

for other words

for songs the world is yet to sing

for every sky that ever was

for other places, other times

for a little mazurka

worse, a waltz

for armies to mass

in a prayer

enough weather in there

for a poem with steady rain

for your call

for everything to work out

for all the people I could be

wild Bachhanal

with party hats

and take me for a ride

would you?

which animal am I?

are we?

enough room

for guilt

for ache

for your soothing

for judgement

fair measure

for what you'll say next

to soften

and to melt

enough

golden afternoon

in your arms

enough room in my heart

for you

Rob Schackne #728 - dance if you do nothing else

dance if you do nothing else
                                     
                                         for Kerri Shying

people will walk past

in the dizzy square
like furious automatons
while the song tries   to fill
the morning air   yes

dance if you do nothing else

there may be weakness
in the hour   in the day
but so brave   so sweet
I will play Chelsea Hotel
and a few will remember

Clark Gormley #10 Doona

dense fog settles in

over the abdomen range

warm weather forecast

Kit Kelen #951 - every animal sad after

951
every animal sad after 
 

the party
the time of the crossing
the rousing cheer

sad after the truth is told
the tune
the chairs have stopped
the hats come off

sad for the objective fact
brought to light

after the sentence is read
and noose too tight

sad at the joining of the dots
and the sun gone down in them

accessory to done deed
after the outcome is known

after the treaty
trick got you off

after unequal
cruel fate
and so much melancholy
you could swim in the stuff

sad that the question at last is asked

can I have been the treasure given?
can I be the treasure lost?

then every animal is sad
and each to other sings so
kiss

there will be some pillow talk with myself
after you have gone

Rob Schackne #727 - Places I Used To Go (2)

Places I Used To Go (2)


Full pack of gear
the water bottles
minor conversation
along a dusty track
deafening insects
birds lizards snakes
one hour two hours
to reach the base

it's still morning
a face with no eyes
you have to do it
sort the equipment
uncoil the rope
choose a line
on belay 
climbing

Kit Kelen #950 - ambivalence resolved

950

ambivalence resolved

I was in three minds, at least

because a city said

so many voices were

but left a window open

but kept a tune

I was all foretold

could never catch up with myself

and I had some other inklings

singing still

could have gone this way

or that with the thing

couldn't say which it was

I was all over the shop

but saw the door, the gate ajar

felt a breeze from who-knew-where

then I caught the first star falling

dreamt until the garden grew

so I found myself here already

let the mind idea away

that's how I came to these wild woods

and where I am today

come with me

let's play

James Walton #110 Undoing the weave

the pretzel people inherited the earth

out of a lane off Harvest Street

they came to benches trams trains

luckily aeroplanes did not take off

or cars leave the monoscript drives

buses stalled where they were

everyone is happy here at last

peace in all time by a moment

held on the soles of feet pulled

up towards eyes to see backs bent

down the gazes of multitudes

to the same angle of sight

the words that made them written

in a language of interlocking text

on socks of universal fittings

only the barefooted walk upright

trying to find their way to the factory

where they believe there must be salt

Clark Gormley #9 Smoke Detector

the whistleblower

that is mandated by law

what a good idea

Kerri SHying R # 491 - stuck darts calling for attendants

waste the money    easy as   the time

no obligation   in the air way   the calls

keep coming     people    gelid  have no

doors     I’m thinking of the blowgun

as a weapon  in my    impulse jungle

stuck darts  calling for attendants

I  leap    crumple   to surrender

someone   hear me   it’s the inside of

my head    see the others    go about

renaming    colours    let brown turn

into white     art   sell it for a song

Kit Kelen #949 - I am writing out of this

949

I am writing out of this

I am writing out of this corner

this light

this temperature

this season

writing from the changes in

and from the difference I make

writing a way out

I am writing from a secret vanishing

cloud kingdom in my cuckoo land

I am writing from sleep

by heart

from the loss

to the lost

from the depths

and from the heights

the same

I am chiming in

sounding off

I am writing a way away

from under the eye of eternity

from out of the mouths of babes

to you who so many years hence

must be an absence to me

I am writing out time

running out on it

I am writing these lines

never to be seen again

Clark Gormley #8 Bagging Area

place item in bagging area

cherries this time of the year?

they’re imported from the USA!

did you ever stop to consider

how many food miles

are in your purchase? ever heard

of buy local? no wonder

the planet’s in trouble bonehead

scan or look up item

not the Cavendish bananas

again!  they throw away all 

the small ones and the straight ones so 

much waste! please wait 

for assistance

you could have got the red-tipped 

eco ones no pesticides 

much better for the planet 

you tightarse please use 

pin-pad to complete transaction

where’s your flybuys card you dope?

we’ve got over a thousand items

available from gadgets and

appliances to getaways and

even money off at the till

moron thank you for shopping

at Coles

__ 

Listen you abusive android

checkout chick replacement you

can tell your Wesfarmers CEO

that he’ll find he won’t be able

to execute his backflip on

plastic bags when he’s on

the high moral ground and

until he flips back I’ll

be taking my reusable bags

elsewhere

Rob Schackne #726 - "Over the other shore" (for Nick Coleman)

                                         
                                for Nick Coleman

      Over the other shore
      blares horns and drums
      conventional conversation
      about the one and the many
      how overcast it is today
      the eggs benedict bless us
      coffee boosts the mind
      the day has started my rain
      of the nameless elements
      of misstated karma

      kangaroos racing down the track
      when all we forget is
      who paid what last
      the smile of the girl at the counter

Kit Kelen #948 - the dark / cosmic inflation

948

the dark / cosmic inflation

notes from the Deutsche Museum in Munich

(for godsbother)

after 380,000 years the universe became transparent

(I am making an effort to imagine what this means)

dark matter is growing

is this what religions have worried about?

take fate for example

everything is perfect with us

nothing ever meant to be

around 84.5% of the matter in the universe is dark

nobody understands what it is

(but maybe there's a word in another language?)

ordinary matter gathers faster

where there are concentrations of dark matter

I want to ask if this is a good thing

we live in all the wonder of it

the Planck 'Epoch' took place somewhere in the first pico-second

(puts things in perspective)

then 47,000 years of opaque plasma

then about 13.8 billion years till me and you and Wikipedia

(give or take 21 million years)

and after me

forever comes

that must be best of all

the facts of the universe are wasted on the scientific mind

Rob Schackne #725 - Places I Used To Go

Places I Used To Go

Let my aim be true
pissing on a plastic fly
a few beers later
the places I used to go
rust my lawless heart
shine up the pieces
that still can shine
a hundred telephones
that didn’t ring
what did not get done
love is never easy
on highway 61

Kit Kelen #947 - writing blind

947
writing blind 

 

in the night
or daydreaming
when you come to me

sometimes after indecipherable
full of a same conviction
scribble might picture yet

who is that man changing the slides?
breath otherworldly in this air
the shadow moving me

sometimes laughter dissolves a darkness
though punchline's long forgotten

an arm, a hand
as from the clouds
to blank of tablet

a welcome to the lines
hail image, plot 
and argument

our sky by day streaks come 

Rob Schackne #724 - in black & white beauty gets used up

in black & white beauty gets used up

                            pace Jeff Hillier

increased familiarity

keeps on going

on the open road free

why certain conventions

driving god knows where

in black & white beauty gets used up

open the window

turn up the music

does not entirely explain

doesn’t really care

the others remaining

Clark Gormley #7 Attack on Australian Soil

it’s the one thing
we won’t stand for
it rocks our very foundation

it’s the one thing
we won’t stand for
but we will stand on it

actually we have to
otherwise
we’re in the soup

OK, it’s not the best
in the world
we admit that

all the more reason
to wonder
why pick on ours?

what about New Zealand
or Bangladesh
with their rich alluvial plains

most of ours is barren desert
volcanoes are long gone
useless dirt for the most part

have we done something
to deserve this?
we just keep to ourselves

we never diss Saudi soil
for example
sand more like it

good for nothing really
but did we tell them
to their faces? hell no!

she’s the oldest continent
on the planet
show some respect

Rob Schackne #723 - A Garden of Reverse

     A Garden of Reverse

             Start eating now
             I repeat you two
             stop gabbing
             she doesn’t care
             how much beauty
             there is in a wing
             invisible to the sky
             this taxonomy
             this beautiful thing
             a garden of reverse
             my lovely dog’s
             been put outside
             the wind is howling
             could be an owl
             maybe it's a hawk
             I must hold tight

Rob Schackne #722 - We Live Each Other Feast (redux)

 We Live Each Other Feast

      Believe it now you writing
      my eye and body the same
      translate this for me
      rock a meditation till it sleep
      the word come at speed
      yes that when I love it
      prayer flag and prayer wheel
      watch a drop of butterfly
      charmed thing inoculated
      (but let's no talk of blood)
      the fighter be the artist
      she live along the battlefield
      she fight for other not herself
      see how the wizard love you
      see I let compassion flow
      we go on this last few minute
      see we live each other feast
      sunset softing on the meadow
      the world still unchanging
      that all I have tonight
      genius this to figure out

James Walton #109 The Koo Wee Rup Exchange

A short-listing trip to the city

and the buses meet each other,

caterpillars plump and expectant

linking up for the Island as the kids,

release tents the hope of backpacks.

Drinking wine with three nuns

one plays Sounds of Silence,

another hums You Keep Me Hangin’ On

the invitation of a grand piano,

splits its sides drawing ambition.

We chat with the hymn section winner

still bleary flown in from the States,

the musicians are three decades younger

suits and gowns good teeth and hands,

fingers fret to each other’s anticipation.

Sister Joseph has had enough decorum

gets evicted reinterpreting Chopin,

as the poets start the place getter readings

Oh you didn’t come first she gurgles at me,

I’m not so sure about that we smile.

Every Punter A Winner says the sign

as Southern Cross Station holds the 8.39,

and the buses puff that last call step fall

with a terminus thrum for tickets cats lost property,

while I thumb the anthology finding mine.

Clark Gormley #6 Norfolk Pine

branches outstretched

like a multi-limbed priest

saying the eucharist

Rob Schackne #721 - "Life is a highway"

          Life is a highway
          alright a can of worms
          pitched from a car
          travelling at speed
          sails in a teeming arc
          spins because it’s alive
          can’t stand it much longer
          I never had it serviced
          the space is confined
          there’s too much noise
          do you even get the point
          looking for the turn-off
          I won't go to hospital
          missed it further back
          now the sun has set
          all the years that landed
          we have a long way to go

Kit Kelen #947 - the nectar eater to his/her love

947

the nectar eater to his/her love

come nest in a hollow tree with me

I know you know the season

pee pit pee pit pee pit

Clark Gormley #5 Bike Lane

not yellow brick

mostly bitumen

painted green in places

to be followed nevertheless

promising safe passage

for pedallers of clean energy

healthy living and those

who just can’t afford a car

although there’s the peril

of opening car doors

that impinge on the lane

to keep you on your toe-clips

and in places unmarked

and poorly signposted

challenging the rider

to not stray from the path

it promises deliverance

on crossing the Pacific Highway

where it magically disappears

sending the rider under a truck

and

onto a cycleway in the sky

Kit Kelen #946 - nothing

946

nothing

living with issues in a new country

Christopher Pyne wants Australia to be one of the world's top 10 weapons exporters

it's all past words

there isn't the language

there aren't the instruments to play

but flesh and organs, all we are

my day, loves

to this evil

nothing

not evil

because there's no such thing

but the facts

strewn casually over

of what we are, can be

I read of the enemy

and why we fight

and this maddens me

the fighters and their freedom

because own innocents were killed

now darken every other world

they violate with what's to hand

death to the others!

and slavery

do as other animals do

so many creatures kind, unseen

and never make the news

it is the theft of

law and right

theft of the living body

theft of the remembered dead

how nothing all our lives and laughter

to this hell

but no

it's not

because there isn't

there's no such place as hell

but here

now

wherever you are

take pages of the day to tell

take down another sky

it's the screams of the damned

damn me

Clark Gormley #4 Tea-Towel

the tea-towel hangs

from the handle on the oven

largely redundant

its function achieved

by time

or the drying cycle

in the dishwasher

instrument

of the impatient

a waste of labour

it should not be used

this particular

teatowel has been

tattooed with the lyrics

of The Leviticus Song

listing

a whole lot of other things

that you shouldn’t do

either

Sarah St Vincent Welch #372 Alpine winter sky

alpine winter sky
Mars near as war, as spring's lust
umbra of night blood

Clark Gormley #3 Venetian Blinds

Venetian blinds

can be tilted to close

downwards towards you

or upwards towards you

downwards

gives you more light

and more privacy

unless there’s someone

on the roof next door

although one above the other

the slats collect dust

respire it out of the air

and it sticks like

cigarette tar in the lungs

without a firm backing

they’re hard to clean

slithering away like 

a child having chocolate 

wiped off their face

but even when they’re open

you don't quite get the full picture

horizontal lines

the price you pay

for brightness control

Kristen de Kline #218 So many dreams 2

So many dreams
go up in smoke
your house is littered
with candy-striped bags
broken zippers, children’s pyjamas
shiny Nike shoes and old Van’s
get thrown into a Salvo's dumpster
you rescue a Christmas stocking
that we gave to the cat
and a large linen Santa sack
in the garage we find the X Box 360
and a school project about dinosaurs
photocopied images of 'long necks'
slathered on a red cardboard sheet
he says, chuck it all away
I’m saving up for a sleeve
can you drive me to Coles
I want a pack of Winnie Reds
so many dreams
land with a thud

Kit Kelen #945 - at or on the going of the Rock

945

at or on the going of the Rock

one less desecration to the highway

who burnt the rock?

I said the highway

with my tonnes of oil

and spill a little

strike a light

this is a worthy cause

who burnt the rock?

it was always an existential worry

thing should not have been

by what divine power

is the rock now gone?

I said the deity

with Old Testament spite

it was an abomination

Sodom had nothing on this

but who really burnt the rock?

I said half a brain

it was horrid

and never a viable thing

(thoughtfully the rest concurred)

remember the cardboard cops inside?

and golliwogs up to the present?

closest we get to Nazi kitsch

it was time to rest the rock

the rock was tired

who burnt it?

I said pride

it was a blight

I could stand it no more

even if the fuel was a better price

who burnt the rock?

insurance job?

a dreadful crime?

let heaven judge that

what a beautiful thing that it's gone

Kerri Shying R # 490 - we are fish in the same tank loiter in the weeds

bite of ink-filled needles   taught me to relax

no way out   around    just through    the separation

of the minutes   into everything  but    stop

I sit reading on the kindle    take the leg of the

man  prone  across the room  for compass

we are fish in the same tank   loiter in the weeds

I love     inside the odour    of the parlour

swathes   of colour       black dripping

on the film  Vaseline  set down across each line

of my new created wound    I am permission 

taken  just about as far     as it can go

Clark Gormley #2 Suburban Defence Logistics

the Toro GreenKeeper

Automatic Sprinkler System Controller

administers subterranean

black poly pipes

which reticulate

beneath the front lawn

and the driveway

supplying outlets

on our northern border

an important function

in this climate

lest the fertile garden bed

should languish

however

shoddy workmanship

across the front path

exposes underground

supply routes

which could be cut

by a terrorist attack

or a heavy trolley

Rob Schackne #720 - "The concrete slabs"

The concrete slabs
points of rubble
here and there

the city
like waste
a building of dark glass
all angles
a Sunday
no winds blow
the street stretched out
like low tide
everything is still
and far off
like greed
by all we mean
in a meeting
like silence
sweet jesus

Kit Kelen #944 - possum notes

944

possum notes

come little one

night waking we are

and climb well past the stars

there is a gravity to fur

and it can be electric

what's up?

crash by

you may call it song

that possum pointing snout-wise

snug in the dark to see

up into the ever-branches

here, have an ant on me

Ken Trimble #51 Read Thomas Wolfe

Lighting bolt crashes my bedroom
in the October night,
I'm gonna die soon
head off to that big hole in the sky
better read a few books before I go,
hear some music, make some loving,
get high, get lost , get Gogh , paint
me a wall with yellow flowers,
take myself to the house of love,
the Taj Mahal, drink the Ganga,
smoke some Ganga, knock on Shams
door and say, hey man, where the fuck
have you been all these years,
man the barricades , throw a few tyrants
out by their testicles, drink sangria
till I burst, cry for the sunrise,
laugh for the sunset
dance trance on a full moon night,
howl at my neighbours ,
read HOWL again, tonight is  the night
I run bare assed through Euroa's
streets, backflips and cartwheels,
listen to Toumani Diabate
as I fake swimming in our local
river, barrack for Collingwood,
hmm maybe that's a stretch too far,
read Thomas Wolfe
you can never go home
again and again.

James Walton #108 Sssssh........sleeping in there!

a mother of pearl sky

out of the library window

from the American oak couch

the bookcase wall nearly full

if it capsizes and carries me

over these rapids as I cling

to handrails of words

by dreams sourced in nacre

would you say the chalice

has landed far from the fleece

a nana blanket of pages

go on pick them up

while you whacko the did

coming upon a misplaced classic

(in Hollywood a Nobel laureate did reside)

a saucer spilled

biscuits to sponge such bodies

crocheted as they are

between me and all the years

of the things I cannot know

still I believe their resonance

hums these boards past japanning

as my socks slide

pure wool union labour

the fair trade of collected knowledge

wipe the stained imaginings

wring out what you can

save a space for another century

held close in each edition

caressed to a swoon of language

I’d like to be your bookmark