Wednesday, January 17, 2018

Kit Kelen #746 - hearted with the other half


746
hearted with the other half

summer is half way through us

I listen in a mist
as if a mountain tipped me

I'm the under it

garden's half bush again

fools of us reach to this
when bee to bud impatient flits

woods half my age
let me along

leaves blow in the shed

who sits the gutters
deals in wisps

the outside's half in

must be more than halfway now
the self I halfway am

until I am half-masted
last breath
is my sayso

half spun
and halfway down

a world's not long for us
let's jam!

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Rob Schackne #566 - "In the old graveyard" (3)


In the old graveyard
near the railway tracks
on that hallowed ground

now deemed a 'Park'
(the funding is pending)
there are no discarded tickets
beat-up suitcases or
faded snaps of disappointing places

I'll just rest here for five minutes
the guide's bullhorn
turned restlessness
into an eternity 

the sky is unbelievably blue
Oh happy day

their souls travel first-class
this might be my train

Kit Kelen #745 - ancestry.com


745
ancestry.com


I was chosen a long time ago
I was one of the ones
parted some seas for a God


all of my cleansing was ethnic back then


all that poison in me --
and where can I get some now?


*


I was dressed to kill
but here today


lugged all this stuff here - just look!
you've no idea
what we lost on the way

*

lovely vampires
or a junkies' club

dead soon
and you too

not to be morbid

life's not to be missed

*

life's short and soon
we'll be nowhere at all

my own irrelevance
comes after

how's yours?

*

how glorious all our defeats
and still the tribe survives in me

the ravages of savages
are nothing to a war

it's out of all such weather
we come

*

game you cheer
and the cheerleaders fuck
and here we are again

having learned my weakness now

pass me a bottle
I'll drink myself over

you could die of the bright
in this kind of suburb

*

all other lives I might have lived
and they'd be over now

you'll believe this, won't you, fools?

bones of a nation to be
ash after all

*

now it's time to stop and play
I'm exercising a choice
I'm making up my own true heart

this is the mongrel me

Monday, January 15, 2018

Kit Kelen #744 - we of a breeze begin


744
we of a breeze begin


stain dwellers
tide turned


we are all the blood
for motion


we catch
ourselves
awash away


and each begin
into an intensity


here because
there's breath left


and sometimes hard
to spit it out


because I'm here
a word with you


begin because
there's still to climb


and we make mountain
of it


the earth
in fast thick pants


all overgrown
this orchard I


to the last rung
riser
cloud come in


squeeze


tether me any sea so


some days
dry twig
so heaven should bless


then tendril touch
and all enfold


caught to be kissed
and on


guess again
come bright
of the vision sought


certain notes
spin up from the fire


a pollen cough
or come through smoke


then we're the dark of it
thus far
carbon


must have slept to here
the snoring!
stertorous


we catch ourselves awash
and of a whim


then witness


it's work
this cramming air in


and call the forest lungs


call forth
a word because I'm with you


take mine
tell on
where I leave off


all of a breeze begin

Sunday, January 14, 2018

Kit Kelen #743 - scuttle


743
scuttle

in a library
piled
hiding

(work of accidents)
the picture in the page
fallen truth

all kinds of instruments in there

let a breeze

a leaf through the trees

that's opinion
I roll around on it

a garden all handles

here it's time waits
while we come

(tools and skin and poison)

and it is canvas
painted in
kooka branches

fur flown

breeze tops of a window
where cloud is only passing

the choir angelic
my radio heart

sat everywhere
for some snake puts a head up
and not a feather lost

haunt of a certain spider
we scare back into tin

a resolution sorts it all
that last flash was a year

close your eyes
see angles lit
(grey day in the book
where the sun shot through)

I followed a rabbit
wings had me up high
and tell brocaded chambers

I'm all outwitted here

only write the books I need
read a way this far
thus

who can see after me?
who's coming along?

Her Highness Antechinus
where?

when I command performance

off on adventures
in the biggest chair

a long long way in there

Rob Schackne #565 - "Turn I look at you" (2)


Turn I look at you
you have five minutes
to connect up the trailer

hoorah the open road
bring around what you can't discard
old stories old books old poems
bad light soft shoulders love

and how long will you be
the dump or the shrine
the pedigrees of stink
we’d better get going.


Saturday, January 13, 2018

Rob Schackne #564 - A Life (1)

A Life

                  after Kerri Shying

A hammer and a nail
the neighbour's cattle
loose in the top paddock
I miss you by five minutes
it's just a phone call
such small things
we project with dismay
little chance of rain
other things with fantasy
dark with clouds.

Kerri Shying R # 396 - Ten lives


Ten lives

what has been wrong with you   all week
 afraid
 to have all the edges
of the small boxes of your life
  touch    
  hissing like a kitten
   the side-step   
nobody  has decided yet 
what to name you
  such small things  we project with fantasy 
  they grow
 I saw you 
stumping out  with the sack  
intent on a drowning 
    don’t you keep count

Kit Kelen #742 - les mots sous les mots


742
les mots sous les mots

bury the eye in heavens above
bark till the tree runs up

bill the bird for beak in
scratch

stim trumps twitch every time
(there are lots)

make the bastards want to read
and burn to blur
waft off
this senseless waste of charcoal

a little obliteration goes a long long way
or possibly that is the title

et sous les mots, les mots

it's out of the good woodwork
among the shapes
as heaven arrays
everything recycled

who'll choose
and who'll be chosen

democracy kicks in
pointed
as of the one mind
now unmade

no mark without direction, depth

no safe distance from a self

but definition in the shadows
a grade from whim through
convenient materials

grey pants

and rub till the thing stands up

go too far
go further
fall off and climb back up

a senseless waste of charcoal
before the flames commit

this is not the way in

see only through a little slit
registration of another
world
no, season
body
shape

the city whole
un-garden

it overbalances
where we tip out

every house is of its gods
it has to be light lets in

the aphorist will wink
we see

tap of the day
machine takes all in

work is the thing in progress
exhaust fumes come from here

go right through the paper
to the other place

all fucked up
could be a way of life

go too far
go further
fall off and climb back up

the art lecture
is all words too many

every house is of its gods

the wrapped thing
the underthing
the unknown
the buried

why does a thing deserve to be painted?

is there an eloquence in likeness?

each mark demands its own belief
one needs constantly to sharpen

if so returns diminish by law
pencil so

and then a city stands
an empire timbers out of frame

et sous les images, les mots
et sous les mots, images

there was a language there

let that begin my doubt

things inaccessible themselves

world other of the any mark

paint parties out

how dark the bright world corners them
you'll have this view of night

for things can't be reached
shall we draw a stepladder?

like diners
we gather to listen

sometimes look
and there's nothing there
you'll kindly picture that

there are no calories in this
a body cannot consist of pictures

faster than the work they come to

so live in the time beyond
it's an art to make
this standing
from the moment

rude presence
never lets us by

where hours and years have come to sit

though none look up

you smell the rain before it comes
and rally to the battlements
as with the other ants

every house is of its gods
it has to be light lets us in

nothing to see here

wherever you are
come out






Friday, January 12, 2018

Kit Kelen #741 - balancing act


741
balancing act

a first touch
is like lightning grounded
tells how I conduct

tribe of who's in the picture
see them all wave
it's with me in mind

braver at a certain place
and tenderly
the carrying is all across

we stand
as if a dance might take

the work to begin
is a body

and trip fantastically till lit

call the weather to me
tell a grief again

then come to first truth of the work
its thingness now time piled
to sing

it's pointed
so we're bound to hear

a population of the remembered

so many truths by whom we are chosen

when you say soul then something misses
keep the heart in mind

as if we were leafed through

read me

all in the picture
found themselves there

it's not as if there were a scheme
but history admits us
to the world we're wielding now

Thursday, January 11, 2018

Kit Kelen #740 - will come crashing


740
will come crashing

it is a kind of fervour brought me

you'd like to stand back from
see into still

so many ways the word is gone
so many kinds of mark
and smudge
and rub

this many in
you look right through

so as to stand in the work
say self of it

some of them are nothing to me

from time to time record
this is an end of the thing
or here the word begins

it was paper before ink night

and should the eye fall into error

the noise and I attend

shape stains from out of ilk

we go wherever breath went

then should the edge fall from the world

make crossing out an art too

feel hat on head
when it's gone

Rob Schackne #563 - "When locals ask"


When locals ask
what are you doing here
I say I don't know
more roos
than you can
shake a stick at

don't forget
you have to be a larrikin
maybe I'm retired
looks like rain

looks like 
you write a bit
no worries

Rob Schackne #562 - The Bridge On The Way Out Of Seymour

The Bridge On The Way Out Of Seymour


A pram in the water
an old bookcase
a door with one hinge
hard to say

all abandoned
the children grew up
left town years ago
she took her last breath
in the library rest in peace
he shut the door behind him

the bridge on the way out of Seymour
and I just got here

#167 Anna Couani artist book - demolition





#166 Anna Couani artist book - close up




#165 Anna Couani Jazz at the gallery

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Kit Kelen #739 - the line for a walk


739
the line for a walk

went on
was listed missing

a brush with colour
might still be on the level

something lost along the way
rattles on

a dawdle, doddle
whisper thread
of conversation
or argument
set out

like a lipstick riddle rim
come smudge, leave trace

then ink to swim
or roll a ball along

sometimes at a jog
trot, gallop, gavotte
trace waltz
until elliptic

stitched wound
strike the strings

go barefoot
tow the line

of waves, in brine
(the line in straitened circs)

and where the mind went – notice

how it never came home again

thin blue
'from where to where?'

something along these lines

and off the rails
one parallel won't meet

Rob Schackne #561 - "Granity"

"Granity"

Only bush scratch
cloud noise against
dead branches

pump's not working
butterflies make
the natives move
their dusty leaves
dragonflies stop
above the pond
stalled for an idea

get the pump going
this bush is in me
it won't change a thing

a long-uprooted tree
the light is different


                         Tallarook

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

Kit Kelen #738 - abstract



738
abstract

rebel against the rote
and show the eye around

never empty to begin
but see into the body

the future sat to bark
has lilt

why use an analogy?
this is not a language

you'll feather it
with tickle tint

there are those days
front up for the painting

you're not what it was
grapple with an open end

what sinks into the picture
has to have been here

it's not music either
neither are they this

working, we won't know
risk is a habit

nature on a par with
what's in the picture

some have things or letterings
the struggle is to dispense with

let's say colour has sunk
where no one could have swum

won't know what
we're to know and not

so you deny territory, empire?
hold your breath forever

collages is the elsewhere
cut to post

the point however is to tell to show
what is not yet

philosophy is pointed
we call the paint adrift

all years beyond myself
and like to get lost here

draw the hardest thing
and it softens

don't believe
set aside

throw angles, rub
until excited

if there's a world
I promise I won't look

the rote rebels against the eye
we're here to disappear

Kerri Shying R # 395 - Decant


Decant

and we decide to be
the fallen    give each other
shoulders    nods
the comrades of the heat
each    the most
uncomfortable  person
on the earth   today
beset

my trailing arc
where shimmer heat
lifts dragonfly 
 above the pond
amid the crowd
 native bees
 hoverflies
 the wasps from here  
 stingless
 not a story   I can tell

Monday, January 8, 2018

Kit Kelen #737 - perspective drawing

737
perspective drawing

naïve instincts rebel against

there is somewhere in the world
from which this will be true

I have no patience for the object made

if anything is
follow the curve

symmetry defeats an average of what's wrong

my calligraphic instincts rebel against thing

the crooked bowl may contain less
but still you would like to put in it

the problems with representation begin with the line
if I have seen it I was guessing

what the machine can do, I've forgotten

there isn't a shape but perfect
I exempt myself of course

I ask Siri what it is I've forgotten
she can't remember either

only a little measurement
sends me over the edge

this bottle I draw is poison

Sunday, January 7, 2018

Keri Shying R # 394 The heat waves


The heat waves

this morning for weather
we have the
 blast  of steel city
 with the furnaces unshielded

it is  a BOS in my garden
 making steel from billets
 pouring into channels    where the beds
 go now

we take the boats of bark
 hard and heavy     roof them
 over roots     the tomato
 that never made it
 for Christmas

make dark caves   see
  the skinks run to shelter
  the air raid siren
  a persistent  tenor
  reconnaissance  cicada
  calling   summer on