Kit Kelen #429 - the music can be enough

429

the music can be enough

never a roof in its own right

more like the head keeping up with the hat

but you inhabit a vanishing land

sparks up as truth so you know

the courage of it listening

the music can be enough

it's a stretch mountain

of itself yet pat

through glass, two are poling the mud

thanks to the idea of fish

or here's the ladder and we leap

you'll get the picture

as the rest is in the bones

as the future falls to our easy siege

thin air must conjure wings

the music can be enough

alien spore, the stretch, an ache

because time is the planet turning

and who can hear?

what meets with us in memory

once was so vanishing

we had to make it where we went

a trill, a rill

such stream as turns

and takes us from the mill

I stop for it and get a whiff

all opening and secret is

flower and ordure and then

I'm bodied, bold

the fact of it is every colour

the music can be enough

they're dragging me away

not a word is said

it rises and we ride along

horns we kiss

a stroke of strings and fingerings

invention is the tide

it's like the wheel

like fire

but in the mind

and deeper down

the soul it says

not knowing what to mean

quizzical quirky

it is all upfolding

blooms

perfect as anything passing is

the ear is innocent in this

you must believe in it

you trust

it is all imminent and next

abstract of any understanding

as if consonants

were gone for a season

let me beat a drum to ward off day

the music can be enough

so full of surprise

every tail should wag to in time

Rob Schackne #267 - "Early spring"

Early spring

or not-quite-spring
is the poets' spring
renew the conversation
put on your thinking cap
try doing a rope trick
by the ring of civil twilight
play the music louder
the poem that may be yours
roaches running crazy
cousins of Kandinsky
the cats are pensive too

Kit Kelen - #428 - in conversation

428

in conversation

I speak with the clouds

they soak all up

sometimes themselves

make hands of prayer

then this idea dissolves

people have gone up in planes to do it

balloons and kites

and falling through with an umbrella

the blue outspins the black

and sometimes stillness seems

this world's that turn made solid

coin tossed that won't come down

Rob Schackne #266 - Love without Fear (Questions without Doubts)

Questions without Doubts (Love without Fear)


Accountant says
stop writing poems
butcher’s chop tells me
I should eat more meat
yogi just laughs some more
I should get clear of the world
fair enough I finally say
there's so much weight
surrender to the approach
surrender to the blank sections
(that's pretty hard to do)
the face direttissima
you dance your way up
past the possibilities
the cloud shadows and lizards
and hardly a day passes
I don’t ask myself
is there a way to

Kerri Shying R - # 199 - Midnight Floorboard

Midnight Floorboard

the movement of the lucky cat arm   supplants the ticking

clock  a year unwound  on the floor there’s Max

a rough 8 inches high   at the shoulder he  plays this mesmerizing game of fetch

with his cockroach  chum    he is sat now staring  keen  while

behind the television paddymelon   a small bronze kitten

mimics him with some intensity  as though he might be the Rasputin

of dogs  after all I have seen this roach beaten stamped on thrown into

the air and flopped upon quite heavily  still each time Max   retreats

leg threads quiver into life    I want to  yell

just die already

so I can go to bed

so I can get into my nightie

so I can put this house to bedand  turn out all the lights

so I can fold my legs and sit in meditation

settling in to oneness with the breath

just die

Kristen de Kline #68 - kissing ashphalt

skies     like glass
are crying     never teardrops
cockroaches      write themselves out of one poem
crowd one-by-one into your words limbs under your skin
there's an after-taste of atomic waste
in the back of your throat
but you've never learnt     a kiss
is a terrible thing to throw away

do the clouds still caress your eyes
can shadows haunt with an
after      glow
have you stopped     chainsmoking
burning heart-shaped holes     in denim
legs
coin-sized spots     in sofa
fabric

the random woman's      still shouting
in the back of some other taxi cab
yellow and black     wasted
you always     ask yourself
what the friggin' hell is she shouting about
where's the last line the final word
does it hang
ripen       linger

swimming in daydreams of cockroaches: your last breath    
tastes like nicotine should
merges across lanes on the freeway
kissing     ashphalt
lying in a burned out basement
your photo     wavers on the wall
like a guillotine
no time for      tear
drops     look up     glass like skies
have another cigarette

Kit Kelen #427 - the cockroaches arrive

427

the cockroaches arrive

it's a new island

and they took their time

but at last the cockroaches have arrived

the mosquitoes were here from the word go

it's fair to say they preceded the island

even if only in transit

did they come by coracle?

in the boxes with the groceries?

some even say they flew

now the cockroaches have arrived

we should hang out bunting

they make a place homely

their apparent silence suggesting

how deaf we really are

those mosquitoes were just a few words in the ear

the dream was still in the dreaming then

now we're waiting for the rats

Béatrice Machet # 355 Spring words

an ephemeral apparition so as to greet you all from France and its "printemps des poètes". 

# 355

words

like scales

to pluck from

a swimming daydream

words

or pebbles in one’s mouth

to articulate better

a river stream

words

under letters

hanging flakes

icy sounds of bells

words

how to ripen them

which beams with

from what skies

Kristen de Kline #67 - neon pink skies

while the animals were sleeping
the sky grew dead,     darkening its stranglehold
you couldn't breathe     easily
Chainsmoker: there wasn't a final breath    
an animal sky colour     you could call your own

while the animals were sleeping
a Tin Man wandered over dandelion fields    
under neon pink skies     searching
for a place to bury strangers

beneath the floorboards you were writing postcards
scribbling an obituary on the back of a napkin
gently shredded words, thinly sliced:
where do I start what do I say

while the animals were sleeping
the Tin Man hacked his shovel into the earth
did he chip a bone or was it rock
animal or human does it matter
Chainsmoker: you couldn't breathe     easily
as you circled the electric Coke sign at the Cross
wasted     in a yellow and black cab
you watched the sky turn     jet blue to neon pink
don't daydream in taxis
stop looking for the Tin Man chain-smoking chasing colours

from beneath the floorboards you can hear her shouting
in the back of some other cab, yellow and black
you can't make out a word she says:
something about a sudden change of heart life picking up
neon pink skies     blotting out dead skies
animals     not sleeping
places     to bury strangers
lying     not dreaming     in a field full of dandelions     wasted

there isn't a last line in this poem
I mis-placed the Tin Man ran out of steam stopped making sense
under     neon pink skies

Kerri Shying R - # 198 - Buts

Buts

there came the time when being high and sleep

began to merge   across lanes   take life’s freeway

slow it down  the crawl is not called

gridlock   after all   the time spent

fearing entropy 

we are not some kind of universe just one small blip

this last breath  not a gasp  has a taste of smoke of

the foil-wrapped cheese of childhood   sinks like

corks don’t    talks the way the kids do when they think

I left the room but    its just me here   so   who

am I hiding from  who am I talking to   if it is

you then  who

the eff  ing

hell are you

Rob Schackne #265 - Grimace (Take 2)

Grimace (Take 2)


One more lesson
don’t daydream in taxis
shenanigans everywhere
especially where I sit
the world senses
the gravity
of the situation
high jinks in cahoots
with the setting sun
car tyres burning
a film still in production
leave your phone on the seat
your expat groceries
the expensive umbrella
the new laptop
your new haircut
never coming back
she’s still shouting in
the back of some other taxi

Kit Kelen #426 - two poems (two ways of reading in one book)

426

two poems

in one book

all others before

long way down

but still further up

if you look

those that were burnt

smell sweetest now

those that were hidden

shine like the sun

in one book

the future is written

and your fate

all the work of your life

we'll come to that one day

*

or that's a certain way of reading

let's say

there isn't a last poem in the book

I refuse to read that way

when you're in one opening

there's always further

by snout

or stick or finger in

let's not mention the mirror

smells like a mountain

so you take first steps, breathe

rise like a heavenly body

but how can a candle wax?

there isn't a last book in the poem

there isn't a final word

Kristen de Kline #66 - the sky grows dead (Thanks to RS)

while the animals are sleeping
the clouds turn a darker shade
     of pale
the sky     grows dead, darkening

the black hole sun      scorches
a hole in my jeans, not my heart
devours     its own rays
it's thinner than it should be
slats of light     drop shadows      bombs
while the animals are sleeping

grab what you have       scream
don't ever say it all happens for a reason will work out in the end don't ever say
just slam the doors     they slam at me
carry me away     unzip my body  
just slam the doors     they slam at me
grab what you have     pull them out of a dirty red bandana:  
windshield wipers, bones, harmonicas
scream run     grab what you have

the black hole sun     burns
a hole, a rock in my mouth, not the heart
washes away     the rain
rinses away     the footsteps
slappin' time on the dancefloor
burns     the black hole sun

while the animals are sleeping
bodies     toss n turn
white satin sheets, twist     tangle
grab what you've got     scream
the clouds     grow dead, darkening
the skies     go out
get tired      then grow dead
in the jungle     the quiet jungle
the lion     sheds its skin
animals      sleep

Rob Schackne #264 - "While the animals were sleeping" (for KdK)

While the animals were sleeping
The sky grew dead, darkening
A sheet of sight, a way of being
This way and not another, keeping
The horizon straight, disappearing
And too late, one by one awaking
We grab what we had, screaming.

Rob Schackne #263 - "I see the candy girls"

I see the candy girls
asking for something
froot loops, chocolate
another round, a life
a single malt thanks
your itch is my command
why not a sports car
change the channel
when you're bored
cock the pistol
but please go outside
where the air is fresher
the street's deserted
beggars sit like Buddhas
minding my own business
and then I said

Kit Kelen #425 - beautiful trap

425

beautiful trap

past words

call in the cobwebs

who's caught?

who sweeps?

who puts away?

ever the larger scheme emerges

as one looks to light

webs no longer to fall through

skeins of day to climb

past words

still bound

by such a spell

one still goes singing on

Rob Schackne #262 - "Who would"

Who would
you mention
who wasn't mad
but taste is taste
and comment is
just comment
shit yer breathin'
fame yer worms
it's a beach swim
this faith my work
mad enough to say
what the fuck
still a few things
impossible to reach
water in the clouds
crimson desert
showers it to sand
I should write forever

Kerri Shying R # 197 - Unwaxed Petals

Unwaxed Petals

can I have my pubes back now    is the time when my muff

had to imitate a twelve year old girl    passed into

history   can I say erk  and

move past the feeling of betrayal

each time my pants slide towards my knees 

can I stop tearing

the light pearl hair bulbs whole

from my softest skin    to please  an unmet

partner    can I imagine the colour of what hair

there ought be    to be

high times   the honey dish  my sliding pelvis frames  such

perfidy   one hung head  not glancing low for insight on the action no

but sinking with a loss

come seek me in the suburbs

in my natal home

rummage in the shrubs

rip the diff out on the rockery

no more

Kit Kelen #424 - the gods are far and otherwise engaged

424

the gods are far and otherwise engaged

has anyone witnessed my life

my work?

my own account is somewhat partial

if I forgive, apologize

if I could just explain

how little I know of the great totality

I can't imagine it thinks much of me

a dog sits up

barks

we see such simple things as taught

the trees

the grass

the cat strokes by

ants won't look up

proximity is nothing for them

it's as the worm to earth that's left

it's as the bird's blank sky

is it not the case

I'm always far

and otherwise engaged

Rob Schackne #261 - "It ever pans out that way"

It ever pans out that way
it happens worse than that
they throw your body
next to mine
neither of us
with a toe to our name
no number no time
to say how we got there
all that we set free
the lies we confessed
not even the fake dime
we gave to Charon
to take the scenic route
will we be remembered by

Kit Kelen #423 - if I'm asleep

423

if I'm asleep

when the angry shouts come

when first shots are fired

when the earth shakes

when the wave comes over

when comes the fatal knock on the door

when Pandora's box looses the whirlwind

when death is a certain thing like taxes

and sins are unconfessed

think twice before you wake me

from our better world

Rob Schackne #260 - "Night, dear dreams"

Night, dear dreams
hard at work
every day I think
about tomorrow
how it reverses
backwards, night
chasing tigers
back into day
get up, run again

Kit Kelen - get my drift?

Kit Kelen - #422 - sweet

422

sweet

all the best made nothings

amount to air

and some are full of beans

some brighten

odd with tinkling

some curl up corners, toes

it's like that thoroughly attending

sit zazen

and you'll draw mosquitoes

from the thinnest air

Rob Schackne #259 - "When we reach the stratosphere" (2)

When we reach the stratosphere
we'll check our chutes, and step
out into the curve of the world
we fall to a field in the west
the little mice shall look up
and the big kangaroos scatter
when I believe we land together
a few ales in the public house
where there will be silence
about the emptiness of space
when we finally go home
there is unaccountable laughter
we make love and fall asleep

Kit Kelen - 421 - senryu

421

senryu

the assassination of Margaret Thatcher

too late and yet

one can't help but smile

Rob Schackne #258 - Knots

Knots


I was a climber
sure for many years
and most adept with ropes
which when left alone
would gather themselves
into amazingly complex knots
ten or fifteen minutes worth
breathing softly nutting out the problem
I remembered my grandmother
how her ties always came
undone like buttered bread
but the crag was there waiting
while my partner fidgeted
and it was my turn to lead
a rope that was only a little furry
what a system that all was
burdened with strained forces
angles bent in carabiners
meaning overhung on a hot wall
where there was surely none
rechecking my knots and anchors
pumped up and out in the desert sun
feeling the chains around my heart
bruised fingers and feet against the rock
one last foolish run-out on a blank face
and afterwards no victory as I recoiled my rope.