Tuesday, March 20, 2018

Rob Schackne #616 - Yesterday


It meets the eye
yesterday we met
migrants walking

on the beach
out of sight
they turned

waxing crescent
yesterday we met
they came back
there was a boat

that's not it
what meets the eye
yesterday we met
a bloodbath
yesterday we met
at the poetry shop
yesterday we met

on the beach
waxing crescent
there was a boat
clouds gathered

what killers
yesterday we met
what meets the eye
that's not it

Kristen de Kline #184 Fish 'n' chips (For Rob. S & The Migrants)

I've bought
too many
chips, it's
easy to do,
the hoki
is fine
but they
always go
with the fries

it's been a long time
since I've heard the stories
... we ran for our lives
thought the end of the world was upon us
good men died, bad ones survived
the clothes we stood up in ...

was fumbling with newsprint
I didn't say a word
the chips up
into a

she says:
my father died of starvation

no indents
no pauses
no extra spaces
between words

temporarily, my son stops
his SnapChat session
I unfurl more waxed
paper, live-streaming into sepia
news: Jacinda Adern talking
about her first weeks in office
splattered with grease

it doesn't matter
that we've enlarged
the only photo
breathed colour
back into him
mounted the shot
in a sturdy frame

it all comes down
to the fish'n'chips

what we can't    do
migrants   walking off boats
at the old domestic terminal
what we can't    say
clouds       gathering
what we won't know
more birds      falling
out of the skies, searching
for stray chips
on sandy beaches

I've bought too many chips
that's    not    it

Kit Kelen #809 - creatures


here we all are
open to

cover the allotted

with ceremony
and display

kingly queenly
jungle crowned

so much skin
wave arms about
and still the bastards land

waking where we
lay me down

come in the last shower

we are in the vast
wool over

only just arriving

turns take

fleshed and pumped
best dressed for bliss

quite a climb to be

unnoticed in the upper branches

aren't we under all

we run the rug
rake rafters

sit up straight
bow heads of prayer

inside out to snooze

and all a body should
wry meeting
with a heigh and ho

so light of limb
and lithe
must mean
we are up to tricks

stroll the rooftops for some height

beckoned, weren't we (?)
to be here
followed, winged along
or it was an old tune drew

some skin to scribble
still in all to do

sprung up
when well watered

coiled spring
two bob watch
you tell me

some roar like traffic
some set light

we only figure speech

from time to time
is how we're here

and we give

we creatures
we are on the way

catch all the light
that falls to us

though mainly must forget

a breeze will bear us all off

we tend where we have touched

much loved
and roll to rub
let weather other-end us

follow a trail
you'll sniff us down

fall off the radar some day
and sometimes off the back of a truck

have to walk from there
it's sobering

every creature is to bliss
as all of elsewhere in us

heir to
vale of slings
and stings

and make a deal
today we're good

carnival creatures tomorrow

by mask met
so you'll never know

but be my pet
this once
o stroke
and come to the cliff
sad after

every animal is

oh well for the fisherman, so on...
then chocolate in the after-Lent

juggle the selves
till creature come home

be blessed

grass grew up through our fingers

here we are
death beckoned

wear specs
for a better look

make mine manna
touch the wind

and we were led
by lightning

that's how struck
the heart

Monday, March 19, 2018

Rob Schackne #615 - Once The Migrants Came

Once The Migrants Came

They looked around
so miserable really

those refugee detectives
who tricked them

they stared at you
ten minutes to find out
if you're from your hometown
they answered
till they misremembered
the street names 
why they took their kids
to run for their lives

the blood and bandages
these very languages

Kristen de Kline #183 Past Tense: The time of my life

When I woke up,  drenched
in dreams   (blood? tears?)
I was in a cubicle, lying
looking over at an ugly floral curtain
my belongings - paused - on the tiles:
Mosquito jeans
Che Guevara t-shirt
red Ugh boots
five editions of Bukowski
favourite title on top,
You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense
a handful of Annie Sprinkle's
Postmodern Pleasure Playing Cards
two hand-stitched toiletry bags:
mini tubes of whitening toothpaste
three KFC sachet face wipes
a block of soap with a message from God:
We must love the sinner but not accept the sin
that's about it
hey I'm having
the time of my life
really, I am

Kristen de Kline #182 Almost

I almost catch them:
the dumb flies,   waltzing
through the bamboo beads
the post it notes,   straying
sunburst buttons
I'm out of breath
ruined shirts
what are they playing at?

The sonnets caught in a
cross-fire, tangled with
garbage   heart   seaweed
on the last mile home
I carry it close to my own
your carved out heart
listen to a language
we don't understand
pen fugitive lines
still can't breathe
on a paper bag, thin

I didn't mean 

a word 

I take it


Kit Kelen #808 - patch of wonders (first crack at)

patch of wonders
first crack at

then redbill at the border twitch
vanish in the hour

last sun of it
should there be water, sit

cup hands
round tin in tank

in the forest lost of words
loose leafed

of course there is a rise of ants
days telling out the rain

still swim
and tree is half the view

all a stretch to begin
in this skin

a week of weather comes to us
we learn the legends now

these next extents of cave
are my indoors

in wisdom of all ages lined
and halfway here by luck

by luck alone
(the comic opera)

I acknowledge a sadness to the tree
this will to all the world

as if the winter were a fire
past where the river ran

come to a rise
hills sweep away

to be here as I am
watchful and minded

well past the not-yet
pond for wingflit

all ilk of creature come
visible, not

as in wallaby watching
the walkers fluff a tail

in all the dream-divided
yoga-ended day

it's Sunday still
with afternoon

and the great heat sinking

in praise of primitive systems
circle not quite

but I improve myself with turning
and fare the way just here

even life was too perfect for us
so now we know

it's time to start
catching the sky

James Walton #91 Place in A Landscape

Another shirt ruined
the new calf breathing with me
ear to heart
my head on the tree fern curve
each of us too tired to rise
the gully folded about us
sliding down the steepness
to the road’s bend
over to the yards
her mother calling
a mouth finds my finger
searching for milk
eyes wide between
fear and comfort
sepia beyond words
she lets me hold her face
this world slips into gear
resting on the back veranda
arms round my knees
in a hello
the king parrots hang upside down
a shelf of splashed paints
fall to pick the ground
my toes disappointing seeds.

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Mother # 123 Claine Keily

I am my own house
but this is something she never taught me
so as I too could be like her
all gold before me
yet sleeping on an ill lit landing
until she made sure I knew
she was could make a puppet of my panic

Kerri Shying R #431 - Buttons


mending Winter skirts
sunburst buttons
call back Spring

Kit Kelen #807 - the fan all night

the fan all night

with punkah sped

mango sticky
from the the fridge

a train
and blizzard wind

tunnel and the chase
of paparazzi

cobweb blow
till jetlag storm

and ship at light
this breath

the sea beat
sails with filled

round round
a roulette Russian

poison spies with ill wind
poms make sunset chum

walla, spit and lick
dry three sheets to

goes and comes around
the gale of life is tinny to us

Bob's your uncle - wave!
so more Britannia foam

squeeze notes from a box
a pound a puff

hash here - no weatherman
but which way?

in the dark
you wouldn't know

marauding nomad vector

wake and lapse
to dream again

a sound of blinds
go up

then sunshine's where
we heard the rain

and summer's
true to blue

Saturday, March 17, 2018

Rob Schackne #614 "the country"

the country
the music
let's sketch
the gumbo
the line
the wisp
look at this
let's walk
easy angles
sing home

Kerri Shying R # 430 - Rose-apple Lilli Pilli

Rose-apple Lilli Pilli

six seasons   suit the birds   for all
the world  a bath   the air  lime warm

small rockets  ear to ear   the count
your families   home for the berries

all clustered five  to the bract
at night the soughing  of the bats

and clatter  wake me  love
this   change of shift

sing to me   suburb   drag
the wheels   of your  three bins

shonk against the asphalt
more than mowers  more than

Hills Hoists   I hear    the colours
rotate  we meet in passing   us

the people of the green waste
the yellow crush recycle   we

drag the shrunken red rubbish bin
kerbside   front and centre

what week is it   where I see you
unexpected  in your shorts at 8am

on the wrong day   and store it
in my memory   I’m standing talking

to the lady    in the middle of us  
and her baby is suddenly walking

  eating lilli pilli

off the footpath   we are all eyes
instead of ears    you are a post it note

of the future
  if you stray

Kit Kelen #806 - hail (continuing on a politics of the sky)


over us

cloud for itself
now no one's conducting

the all to scratch
laid still

worm on the way
and ant along

rise of the bodies in dreamlight


someone has a question to ask

sometimes you make yourself a problem
just so you'll have to solve

kookaburra catch

my lie is a listening truth
of someone's story told


page gone from the dictionary
there's the world torn out

yet loved here
we rely on weather

in mysteries we wonder
and exercise a doubt


haunt a home after
with all that you've done

so soon so soon we're gone
and I will always be here
deep in your forgetting


world good for another few billion

hail every such confusion as self


and starring night
this distance
which is time
and where we are


all hail
this over-us heaven

no one's conducting
let's jam

Friday, March 16, 2018

Kerri Shying R # 429 - The Chronics

The Chronics

so when did your life  take over
 life    it’s the kind
that throws you  back across
a chair like the mortar charge 

two  people in the same body

one of them can’t be arsed
 to eat   sleep   parsing beeps
 on multiple devices   hey
say  I’m just your workplace

on your clipboard  for those
twelve days   before handover
read the notes   take
the history   send in

students   tell them
there’s a real case
just hit town

Kit Kelen #805 - over us all (towards a politics of the sky)

over us all

towards a politics of the sky
(thinking of the seven million humans in the world who die from air pollution every year)

when I can still remember
staring clouds apart together

it's here with
up with us

the urgent thing

our ash
and we said souls before

leaf lit
all winged with hallelujah

golden with the deeps of far

and all else long ago
pointed with the way
when here we are

grey on a day
like gathering
feel the pressure in your ears
old bones tell

and just a wisp of beard to show
gods who battle here

you can stretch up into it too

what other animal we are
to take this vacancy for air

cough up

fumes foul and odourless

wash in it
till we all stink

swirls and whirls
and who's to call it?

by all objective means you'd think
the stuff's over us all

I say it will be certain
because I cannot know

your disbelieving suits you
what can you see eyes closed?

as if it all were spoken
days heavy with the dead

three wise monkeys roll into one

and there's a little breeze for love

then when will I be humbled?
and when will I say home?

Thursday, March 15, 2018

Rob Schackne #613 - "So I am having"

So I am having
this dream last night
sitting outdoors at dusk
in a small village in Uruguay
a large hound at my feet
I'm sipping mate 

O wait 
wake up
I'm not sure what mate is

I look in the dictionary
yerba mate

a species of holly 
a caffeine-rich
infused drink 

gourd and silver straw
it's delicious

this place is beautiful
I don't mind dogs

Kit Kelen #804 - living the dream

living the dream

for mother


locked in

a kiss
what's that?
don't touch

in a waltz one loses cheek
to river run beside blue

a kiss is a kind of stealing
like yesterday once more

kind of trance
to think of me
are the Scots all sleeping?
they were ancestors too

but it's now right now
I see it
fancy to meet

dinner comes and goes

that one's mad
it's like being there

something broke on my heart
in this picture
they are when we were
when is he home tonight?

pearl fishers
what will they find?
can you tell?

I roll away into a ball
roll a ball into
roll into away

give the sentence test

tomorrow is a bird to tell
spend some paint on the thing

I'll whisper it to you

brutal knowledge
like pictures against each other

not me
we're still in socks

you can be still too

you go into a thing
I call it
you must know

we've had to have been


I am away here floating

I ache
and I forget
I ache

once deep of when
like a poem sprung

clear ground
and the kookas come

thank you for spelling it all

cadence or cadenza?

and no again
that's what you say
can't imagine

you're looking right at me now

it's away

I think it's the teddy bears' birthday today
shhh I'm listening

gone where?

you're stuck on a thing
the river's rife

clouds are out of the window

everything sung
is home

can't you see I'm gone
I had a question

we drive off into beautiful weather
where are the strip maps?

I see you
why are you looking at?

I'm here
think the fairies are away

keep them in a fold
night folded
day is crumpled up

it's self fulfilling

sometimes a studied pattern

and no again
that's what you say

can't imagine

you're looking at me now

like I'm faded in a chord

keep the head open
and full steam ahead

someone can guess the code

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

Kit Kelen #803 - as in

as in

a bird walks up a tree
winter is in it already
as in the ache to light
in after rain
as high as anyone can land
as in a cloud's touch only tells
a spin in the limbs
finds flower
hear hearth crackle home
be spoken of by wordless ones
as in their wings you know
and dip dive
how once upon a sun
and pious silence ants work
a riot of the worms
as in easy does it
time to touch
come to the echo
because we are
and more than rumour
limber with as in
where we are then
dark of dream
we delve
to live
the last light
finds us there

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Kristen de Kline #181 The last mile

a million miles
home   you don’t
know where it
your bung knee, begins
ache,  those molar teeth
a handful of Oxy
an ugly blue knee-support
a chattering bar room

the hungry jukebox
home   you don't
know     what it does to me
how it eats gold coins
spits them out     spins
them round      through
a blizzard of smoke
a million miles     away
it's been hard
kisses,     dreams,   
it's been lonely

things are
always better
where does it
end   this track


a     million     miles 
you,   this poem,   me
home,    the last mile
do we ever get there