Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Knowing #76 Claine Keily

She knew now
that she would never again
go to resturants
so she left the cocktail dress
where it was on the floor
relieved that he would not
reach his hand across the table
to kiss her fingers again

She knew she had done well
to refuse him entry
and to give him coffee

No reason now
to accept the rice cakes
that he offered
when she was not even hungry
nor to arrange to meet him
in her newly swept apartment
on Sundays
where they would argue endlessly
about the weight of him sleeping with
women he did not know

Kit Kelen #413 - the problem of reciprocation


413
the problem of reciprocation

I see a little way into their mystery
I'd like it to be known and to them
but they're not the seeing kind

the mountain's sensate otherwise
I feel it's so
they have no feeling for me

and so the trees are for the forest
hold the stream to course
like cupped hands
can we see what they catch
when they've heard nothing coming ?

even with a mouth, with eyes
it isn't so hard
to tear out a heart
from the living flesh
and hold its last few beats
in your hand

Jeffree Skewes #42 Joy







It was meant to be Joy

full of painters poets a jazz drummer

switched on vanguard, lovers

 hand made patrons of the arts


avant gardens in the hills

the good-life party at lunch

early drinks all night

charcoal rubbed paper


free love summer post-war

a poster child who knew

and grew-up too soon

lost the fear we did forget


wrapped in Sunday, mourning 

never really knowing

who did what to whom when

shame plays it's tune


so begins the remains of days

records spin around

tears for precious life 

and a generation broken


Joy in the pearler's diving bell

did stroll ocean floors

drew a light never saw

feathered starfish hands and more...




image: Joy Hester 1920 – 60
Girl holding Turkey   (Vera) 1957
synthetic polymer paint, brush and ink, gouache on card
74.8 × 49.8 cm   NGV 


Rob Schackne #250 - "In the crackle of dreams"


In the crackle of dreams
the swirl of the sore heart
guns be fired everywhere

let it never be anyone here
there is not, or me, children
after a street scene, a battle
that didn't end all battles
there is not, shit on a wall
a future happening, or tyres
they're burning like leaves

or the personal bullets, I run
the shells ripped up like the sun
the night I was losing my mind
god, we go anywhere we can.


Monday, February 20, 2017

Kristen de Kline #63 - While you were away #2

while you were away
I turned the fucking music up
so screaming loud
I couldn't think I couldn't write I couldn't

I stole your lives lines words
while you were away
I sat by the venetians and watched  
your children    dancing in
oversized slippers
placing plastic tiaras on skin and hair
thinning
I felt like crying
but nothing    came out
I looked out
into the winds     the ice
from the windows of the bus
but then there was
no windows      no bus

I listened to your words:
come have a drink with me
you've got to be joking
heard the car horn
     blaring
I laughed at your sick cat your old hat
I couldn't stop laughing at
the world     your soul
the lady teaching
laughter     yoga
you've got to be joking

while you were away
histories collapsed
I died a few times
it was the stray cable ties
stab wounds     puckering
bullet holes      under gaffer
Candy got it wrong
it wasn't      safe
how did I forget
I climbed out of bed in the morning
and thought I'm not going to make it
while you were away      I walked through fire
listened to screaming music     fucking loud
nothing     came out
the car horn     blared

Kristen de Kline #62 - heavy heart

hearts are growing,
heavier
we're all writing the same thing:
beyond words
don't make me laugh don't make me cry
what weighs the heart down
rusty cages      something
nine inch nails     hardening inside
deep

You know what  a hungry heart is
I'm loving     smoking
     again     burning
holes     the size of a fifty cent coin
in fabric     reclining
under the stars
that keep     falling

but a    heavy heart
I don't     understand
your jeans are decorated with drops
     of blood, like tears
falling
      on our heads
you're thinner than you should be
I'm not saying goodbye
every t-shirts got a
     wine stain
you're drinking merlot from cheap plastic
tumblers     reciting Bukowski:
When you drank the world was still out there ...
that's as far as you get

morning doesn't break     it comes
whenever    wherever
it happens to
you're still quoting Bukowski     downing another red:
... but for the moment it didn't have you by the throat
you go out every night sleep all day     shout out
to the blue summer
sky     something about     the unbearable lightness of
     being    
the world still out there    
stars that keep falling

I could count the girls I fell for
     on one hand
our hearts are growing, heavier
punching in the same phrase:
beyond words beyond words beyond words
     seven hours and fifteen days
she was on that hand
     nothing can take away these blues
someone was falling     it could have been me

out of sight     don't disappear    
I'm not saying goodbye
the world was still out there     shed your skin    
make me laugh      make me cry
I'm not typing the words     heavy heart
top up the tumblers   throw me the lighter
I'm not saying goodbye






Slippers #75 Claine Keily

Today she was poor
and reached out to children
to feed her
then she returned
to the coal heap
to the mortgage that took
her sleep
to a bed once covered in silk
now sheeted in oilcloth

The children have
no mundane origins
yet to speak of
know not the buckets empty
which once they had dreamed
were full enough
to feed their dreams
of a contented mare
so they place on her
thinning skin and hair
plastic tiaras
and dance happily
in slippers
far too big for them

Rob Schackne #249 - You Won't See Me Now


You Won’t See Me Now


Can any woman make it
in that clear world of magic
who steps through the smoky mirror
watch it happen from the other side
looking back at collapsing histories
say where did the mother go, the nurse
the daughter, the wife, the little sister
once by the fireside and the flame
I'd ask too, but I’m on the other side
navigated by extraneous spells
the bewitching power of time
high over this endeavour to know
stepping over the stray cats of a life
always the magician, how do I forget.


Kit Kelen #412 - who's been sleeping in my bed?


412
who's been sleeping in my bed?

listening in the shadows
for all this sun has said
it shines without witness
no life signs required

idea of creation makes all other ended
the dreamer has learned it all by heart
and constantly slipping off for a wander

I'm looking out into the woods
in the snow
I see prints
to follow
and I see as far as the eye can go
into the mountains
that brush with the sky

into the ice
and past the horizon

from the windows of a bus
and then
no bus
no window

dawn, old friend, we have been here before
I will always find a way as long as I've this home

the namelessless is a beginning
and there's forgetting at the end

come into the forest
you dreamt before time

come a little further on
you know I can't know here

idea of creation makes all other ended
we're making it up as we go

Rob Schackne #248 - "She walks up to me"


She walks up to me
I teach laughter yoga
here three nights a week
you ought to come
yes I'm very interested
come have a drink with me

she waits a sec she says
you've got to be joking

a moment outside of time
we bow to each other
the next two days 
everything is funny
my sick cat
my old hat
this won't stop laughing
my soul against the world

Sunday, February 19, 2017

Kit Kelen #411 - make believe - for godsbother


411
make believe

pretend it's a mind like ours made us, made ours
that can't be hubris
that won't even count as superstition

what's memory
without the names?
raft the flood has

how else could?

it's true names
are an arbitrary instance
could just as well be wild, just be

wind will blow
without the window
but how's a soul to glimpse it?

here's the hard cold
here's the wet fall
over here dry footing

the further
from a name
we've set
the more
we see

we need
these crutches

the new words
catch a book by the tail
sit on it
slap
will the truth come?

it's in the bucket
flapping about
the way we would
if there were
nothing to breathe


Kerri Shying R - # 196 - Shady Lady Writes Again


Shady Lady Writes Again

Poetry  it’s a square gig   so far  it’s been nought for nought on injuries no
threats    no taken hostage   for the future of the sentence  

nothing predicated on
my part in word craft history

I haven’t said yet to a poet   am I in the boot or in the back seat
haven’t looked for   stray cable ties   in the centre console

on my way to read at poets at the pub    they might    be warming
me up  with all this kindness   the books in the post  it could be

a trap     

  under the voile spot blouses   stab wounds pucker   half-healing
bullet holes under gaffer  hidden by those black velvet painted kitsch

car cushions    and anyone can see this is a fantasy  no Australian
poet   owns  a car

Rob Schackne #247 - We Do Live Each Other Feast

We Do Live Each Other Feast
                              
                       
Believe it now you writing
my eye and body the same
please translate this for me
rock a meditation till it sleep
the word coming 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
how the wizard still love you
see I let compassion flow
we go on this last few minute
we do live each other feast
sunset softing on the meadow
this world still unchanging
that all I have tonight
genius this to figure out

Saturday, February 18, 2017

Milk # 74 Claine Keily

Here signs
on the door
that there are things forbidden
corridors gloomy
no glittering rivers
just the sound of cars
shrill in my soul

This is what it is like
in England

Weighing the cost
of cornflakes for dinner
against the numbing effect
of cheap cider
I learnt to leave
milk in the shade of
windowsills
to save on electricity
rising early to eat
in the hope
of finding that
it had not soured

Kerri Shying R # 195 - Oscar on the Treadmill


Oscar on the treadmill

now my Chihuahua   in the bath  he has to swim in case  the other
dogs give chase   the sand can be a cruel    stretch   he turns

the mouse-eared head most plaintive   no teeth show yet
the paws are pedalling   kneading up the puddings      dutiful

the grittiness  of toil  from top to tail   the rocket to the stone
non-evasion     no swag saviour    we turn we swim

for home

Kit Kelen #410 - parts of a Taipei ponder


410
parts of a Taipei ponder

procession

the one with no head
he is following

she with no heart floats
into the future
camera adrift like the sea

everything said comes
umbrella under

funny hats
basket scones
pretending things must mean

the dog mask
the pig

the part of the vacuum cleaner connects

in uniform
bearing the lanterns and drums

elemental
the paper with the spells
like leaves
still falling
like notes tossed once typed

the chanting and the ring around
who flower strewn's to leave us

a fire and all of this river beside
then of course the rain




don't know where this is going

I live inside a contradiction
plenty of room there
the roof's held down with chicken wire
at a loom
and ox along
over straw bridge

man next to mountain, heart
two penises grow from the very same tree

you see the digital underface

the weight of things
once picked clean

what flashes on one screen
bears no relation
it doesn't matter you can't read

all in the one vagina vanish

we are smaller than writing

there's a kind of stumbling on
we're what can't be helped

one word at a time
we go




inside the body

all industrial scale
you want to attach antlers
you want a wild wind stirring
and hail or sleet for otherworldly

chase twine
some other colour
unravelling
down stairs

everything reflects
if you catch at the right angle

we'll be black and white again
and I am among them
not enough pixels
to pinch myself
awake from
out of the dream





there are more

the headless ones
of the wardrobe hang
all self-ghosts
any could en-soul

tin can be head
and basket straw
the rusted thing
was once to purpose
rubber to a road
now lost

the abstract light casts
the habitable truth
(as noted)

truth is just a little beam
only one climbs the stairs at a time

a ladder drifts the whole world round

if you slip away
there's time to do
and there'll be time again


Béatrice Machet # 354 EARTH'S LAMENT



# 354       Earth’s lament.

Imagine being the rain. The long thunder that announced you.
Imagine now lying in a creek bed far below any road you know
at the bottom of a steep ravine. Imagine each root
each stem each leaf you’ve been watering.
Imagine the rainbow you welcome more than once.
Imagine the foggy you that you were from time to time
as if seeing the depth the height the width of
some soul. Imagine being the rain. Imagine this
eroded path you can call a life. Then
imagine my eyes. Then see my grief.
My sorrow. The long spasms of my shaken
body. Look at this landscape. Feel its pulse.
And watch my sleep because it’s night. 


Complainte de la Terre.

Imagine que tu sois la pluie. Le long tonnerre qui t’avais annoncé.
Imagine maintenant que tu es allongé dans le lit d’un ruisseau
bien plus bas que n’importe quelle route que tu connais au fond d’un ravin profond.
Imagine chaque racine    tige    feuille que tu as arrosées.

Imagine l’arc-en-ciel que plus d’une fois tu as accueilli.
Imagine l’être brumeux que tu étais de temps en temps
comme si tu voyais la profondeur   la hauteur   la largeur 
d’une âme. Imagine que tu sois la pluie. Imagine
ce sentier érodé qu’on nomme vie. Puis
imagine mes yeux. Ensuite vois mon deuil.
Mon chagrin. Les longs spasmes qui secouent
mon corps. Regarde ce paysage. Ressens sa pulsation.
Et surveille mon sommeil car c’est la nuit.