Friday, October 20, 2017

Kerri Shying R #339 - Sleep


Sleep

I can feel my bones
my tiny splits of wrist
      bones  fiery  spinning
striking midnight
      thigh bones
heavy with deep blows

It is the ends   the centres            
 not the same place
 twice   forever   banging
 on the pot lid
 beside my knees unload
the truck of steel bars 
drop the dolly      clatter
be the industry
of pain              tell me

smile

James Walton #79 Southern Entry Leongatha, October




The paddocks have changed.
A praying mantis trellis
of snow peas covers banked soil.
On the other road side,
early silage is wrapped garishly
sited like spilled marbles.
White clover counts in threes,
the sky is coffee grounds.
A Norse thunder hooves its way;
the pickers clasp satchels
their non la’s lift off and spinnaker.
Rain calls them to shelter,
in utes the station plays Orbison.
Holiday traffic slows to read
the stacked rounds broadcasting,
Farmer Looking For Partner
and Carn Dogs 2018.




Rob Schackne #498 - "Crazy white cat"


Crazy white cat

argument every night
the swings we rode

poems you rubbished 
I couldn't publish
Monk on piano
like me on you

so many years ago
humming bees
then the dancing
then the dreaming
no more than I can do

Thursday, October 19, 2017

Kit Kelen #656 - Helsinki set --- 1. Athenaeum

656
Helsinki set

1
Athenaeum


nakedness in the north
must mainly be indoors
it's warm
where winter warm holds the rain high
it's like a proof the heating goes
the roof is snug
all gawk
here's summer on the rocks preserved
very fin de si├Ęcle

someone has to have rowed them here
so maidenly recumbent
and men – you can't tell foreskins – stretch

skating all wool
for the ice lit moon

how dour the clad
all bible and coffin
their waiting dark under itch

a kind of dance as if winter set war

the smoke from a church pours truth

with women's lust just quietly
is how we are here

mosquitoes take the summer lake
let's none of that pictured

a faun awakens
rudely thought
a shepherdess' surprise

all spring close knit
with her and colour

nakedness is a season beyond
as if we would yet come to our senses

joy in the limbs
fleshed forth
how little of that lasts
hay day make us to scythe
well sung

under the clothes one knows of course
but too polite to say

this pagan fling – still moment
of its own eternity

it's as if the dead hand of God's truth would lift

light is an island the sun shows to
night is surely coming

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Kit Kelen #655 - the useless contend again


655
the useless contend again

after and for Felicity Plunkett
(without the numbers this time)

deep in the nation of psyche
grey dog eared poem
monsters the deep

fold and tear along
the tune
and fold again
see smoke rise

surprise me with who wrote it
will you?
I'm not the one to judge

give it the slipper kick
nudge me along
be tragic for

prescription –
take off the head hurts

a jetlagged dream
is not at all

greetings from Helsinki

select this one
it glows

Rob Schackne #497 - "Just a bed"


J
ust a bed 
under my feet
a day before 
the floor
above it all 
my head
a blue sky
which has no motive

say thanks
lord it's falling
rightist road 
speak in lawless
buried deep
animals 
raise our voices

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Kristen de Kline #159 The day before

the day before Court
ninth appearance not

counting   poets with priors
proliferating   the lawless

chatter deep into the night
invoke the law by daylight

affidavits collected - sworn,
sealed, stamped - they'll do

the trick   your lawyer says
not to worry police case is

flimsy witnesses unreliable
nobody has ever drunken

the whiskey, I can hear my son
playing Supertramp in the shower:
"Crime of the Century"

there are times
when all the world's asleep
dusk before dawn
the questions run too deep
clouds before storms

a lot can happen in a year

she can be talked down off
light-fittings talked up off
train-tracks he can not
wash for five days sit in his
apartment eating foil bags of
potato crisps drinking Corona,
chilled, with lemon wedges,
splintering down
the bottleneck 
gasping
for   air

the lawless chatter

hollow bones
peppermint breath
riffs from Supertramp
bloody well right
bones hollow
breath peppermint

chattering
lawlessly

the day before Court









Kerri Shying R # 338 - white cat Hank high above and flying

white cat Hank high above and flying



I saw Hank
preening
along

your windows
open to the bright
sweetness of the Sunday
air   we

here down below
the flats above the closed
shopfronts  of the
post-financial crisis
fixers  job-getters
for the poor  we
see you

soak up future
paint
on a scrap
a rag still printed
with the same teddy pattern
purchased 
just before your birth

in my mending basket
blanky 
with some retreads
of skeletons
of spaceships
 star wars future

yet to fill
my hours

Kristen de Kline #158 Lakeside

Down at Lakeside
things, life seems

possible     again
green and brown reeds

surface in the water,  clear
and deep ripples on the surface

indicate movement    ducks
black swans   joggers   boys

in an aluminium dingy, tight
fluoro yellow vests     and

skies, moody blue   tinged
with white     everywhere   

skies

more ripples in the water
foliage    worn planks nailed

down, weathered hard
like those days,   darkest

light splatters across the
beams     a shadow tangles

across the play of blonde
on the wooden planks

down at Lakeside you post
on Facebook: chilled energized

and happy   seventeen friends
send you red love hearts, ten

fire off big thumbs up   things,
life seems do-able     again

possible   

everywhere

skies


Kit Kelen #654 - people-rise


654
people-rise

a sun behind them
not up yet

each sudden, as from chrysalis
with hardly an 'I'm here'

and they forget the other world
know the way already

the flower
this loving glance for friends

who can know what told them?

the people rise

they have been all-wishful
now from sleep
they conjure light

day comes through curtains
to the already risen

it was as if breakfast called
when cosy would have lain together

each is a citizen of weather
does one conduct
or are they each their every way?
in each other's?

the people rise
all tremble at

some bump into another, stay
and there are vanishings in

some dream curls from each every day

the people-rise a world embrace
heard here

should we watch
as from another world?

there ought to be a postcard of it
on the brink of an idea

you, in every song and dance
could be the breeze begun

a people rise
mean nothing by it
all the old is swept away

they drift like continents
so clouds around them come
like capes

this one sun stares for the ant scatter of
contending and out

will such a tide dim?

sleep fells
like a good intention
then all fall to feed

know by their secret signs

longer that way
tall with story
often woken to the news

from harmless 'in your dreams' they say
world girdling
all the one wave
out and doing
up and at

it's all fine-tune here on in
and world watch out
too late!

all wonders stand in them
and often brush aside
the people rise
observe!
all heavenly bodies obey

James Walton #78 Cootamundra Wattle




You’re too daggy now
once so ubiquitous
along with hydrangeas
the pairing almost a haiku

every second child fell out
of that shivering font of annunciation
all Alice through hay fever
the broken skin your other variety

Jason’s crew cleaned their bodies
with oil from a familiar orchard
your head tossed its fleece
over the weight of so many plantings.

You’re confined these days
to grandparents’ gardens
in forgotten suburbs of lustrous hubris
gummy excretions from pruning

not fitting the clean lines of Rubik cube domesticity

shepherded back to the great plains
an origin where like the elephants
wandering in grand eloquent possessives
as seedling shields howl out resistance

mimosa florets precious as saffron
lay over the trails to graveyards
the leaves finely cut venetian blinds
all frayed by the incisions of golden offspring.

















Kit Kelen #653 - epiphany


653
epiphany

when daylight pours into the room
so everything is lit
only a fool wastes time
to scratch the bare fact down

some days there isn't a breeze
to let in
then you open a window
onto the stillness

your true satori –
raw steak slapped
on the blackened eye
as in the old movie

needs no recording
but turns you around
to see
where you were
and are

no further thought of it's required
now that you're on your way

Monday, October 16, 2017

Rob Schackne #496 - "When wind blows the flags"


W
hen wind blows the flags
blessings flow through the land
the people bow their heads
remember the good things

smile at what's to come
forget Capitol Hill
the petrol station, battlefield
football field, national anthem
parades and flagellants

give it time enough
they cancel out themselves
count our blessings
it could be worse
how much they believe
how much you love

Kristen de Kline #157 under your feet

down Lawless Way
we play our cards close

to our chest    at 10 am
the Legal Aid lawyer offers

me a shot of whiskey   sketches
question marks on the Brief of Evidence

shreds witnesses' credibility
annihilates the police time-line

down Lawless Way
we fight fire with fire

burn down the house
burst into flame

a psychic predicts:
landslides
jarring news
cross currrents
in matters of the heart

she shuffles the Tarot
passes you the Tower

the world
falls out

from
under
(y)our
feet

where do you land

from the skies   deep
and    purple   
bruised   burnt

how do you fall

down Lawless Way
fire with fire
fighting

Kerri Shying R # 337 - Electric walking


Electric walking

brown dog   brindle  gated
 large  the small 
 anticipate me
 passing show

flag trees  waving
 out the blossoms
 early summer  scent of

my grandmother’s purse
 concentrated to a cul-de-sac
 on the northern line

you
cobble up the fashions
 of the gardens over
 decades  

 make my world
  
I
am the hum  of rubber
 wheels   slow enough
 to greet

Rob Schackne #495 - "Knocked down"


Knocked down
earthed again
on bamboo slips
characters missing
a heart most broken
a child almost gone
the eyes you use
paticcasamupada

it's barely a word
it escapes me
who we are
when we get there

let me off here
follow trails of blood
you know creeks fill with rain

Sunday, October 15, 2017

Kit Kelen #652 - l'allegro



652
l'allegro

I have a little bounce today
and all the year says so
the world smiles with 'I'm here'

so far among the seasons
not a single truth but shone

day! I roll around in it
and play
I tingle too
I hum

warm hands by heart
then let's recite ourselves
shall we?

sign the dotted line
cross out
and that's my little dance

a sky comes blue to me
and nothing perfect

those little clouds
are shaped to love

look out the window here
no chariot
I wonder how I've come?

who cares?
I'll take the way to go

Rob Schackne #494 - "The days being part of" (for KK)


The days being of
the self again
I'm fixing the roof
the rain gets in

like a frog splayed
upon the table
or a snake gasping
upon a rock
just wandering
animal vegetable mineral
major general psycho ward
sent out to look for it
writing all this
a time out of mind
how far we've come

Rob Schackne #493 - "If Lines"

If Lines
                
              for Kerri Shying

If lines tend to circles
(no reason they don't)
the barbershop
and supermarket
the light is so dark
a fugue diminished
the mimic of everything
I am right behind
the neck and the clock
an oblong is a circle
a wrong wayward world
I'm only screaming
every twist is the same


Saturday, October 14, 2017

Kerri Shying R # 336 - Triage ( for Nelli)


Triage
 ( for Nelli)

the one hand wears
a tendon clean    on view 
cut   not severed  
see the clear blue mucous
move    it slides

I’d get that to the clinic
before the muscle    yes
that part below
yes it looks just like a book
gets grit and dirt
the next thing
it will be infected    no

we don’t have to
say

the reason  the whole
thing came to be a long hollow
weeping

the ringing
endorsement

of a disagreement   that
can all stay here
safe as houses  or not
as the case
might be

Kit Kelen #651 - follow a line


651
follow a line

here comes the horizon
a doctrinal thing
though few will have it called

draw a line
and find you're followed
just a nose ahead

all on a particular plane
this is the way

take a tune
hang up to dry
bewilder the wishes
of why not cause why

stretch and make moon
your mouse

of thought
as tends to argument

swim in the ink sea there

be clouded
unknow it
drift and be

ants akimbo
after each
have the whiff of
bisect

dotty with
and sometimes
as in long division

draw the thing out
think of a number
and there'll be more

call it a coast
on to infinity

or till you're lost
between skies

where we'll meet another line

dash it
from one certain year to another
we'll call that a life

tow the line
have a hook and sinker

call it a trail
there'll be treasure

along the way
look up