Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Kerri Shying R # 374 hey Dooka

hey Dooka.

I’m casting round my eye for those
I can’t put my hand to

nearly Christmas  haven’t
heard that voice   your face

must be round the traps
sing out  if you want me

tell me
it’s ok

Kit Kelen #711 - so much sun we'll call it summer

so much sun we'll call it summer

the weeks of December are many
and here I am in just one

healing from the year

towards the longest 
and day along
time coming
everything builds to it

I was all over the place
fell into disrepair

something is catching up with me here

bright day through the blackout curtains
a hecatomb of insect death

and Christmas is a long way off
and summer is too much

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Kit Kelen #710 - bio note

bio note 
the via negativa made new every day  

at my greatest extent
I was an empire
inter galactic
there wasn't the fish to translate me

I didn't have to go anywhere
tribute was brought
some plantinum asteroid
would have parked overnight

you couldn't help finding Planet X
then and of course lay claim

with prominent teat when roused
so rub

you just wished
then nothing to it
any star might fall

spring moist aflame
and all in bud

all would eventually
we had time in those days

careless with showers
shone with the sun

I was reading the daily entrails

actually I was a plume
don't worry
there was one of me
in every packet of cornflakes

you could stretch the thing out
any direction
they were all into it then

once I was erupting
pall of me
and what a bellow!
all trumpet and rear
laid dinosaur eggs

chased skirt
and I hatched out
delight of flight

from ashes and dust
and so come again

you could burn just trying to get around me
everyone would nod then
all as of a mind

triumphal arches, keys to the shop
drum marches in the glory days
and they'd carry my image across

sturdy, determined
all policy, grave -
everyone knew where they were going

some fife and they followed
all into the mountain

and then I wore no clothes

they'd lick me all over
at sayso - the dogs

so see this little sheep's face - dumb
prise open the eyes of the fish

you could all join in - a must
that was me just fishing

but isn't just the facts catch up
or even just a quiet ponder

cicada clung
wise to a saw
like afternoon all summer
that's when I'm writing it now

and what have I done recently?

wild animals in the house

mainly I'm where you won't see of late

how I drift like a cloud all the day

Kerri Shying R # 373 - Cuckoo


I said stop it
you cheap thing
at the sky   to the Koel baby 
lummox  clambering up the branch
cough-laughing  like the penguin
in Adam West’s Batman 
above him the Wattlebird mother
flitting    wondering how
big mouth came to strike again

Rob Schackne #542 - No Title

No Title

Down the clouds
is it orotund
is it moribund
homeless in China

pushing a cart
you’ve done
what you could
visiting the bins

no title
so quietly

you don't fret
you look at me
starting to rain
I can barely watch

Monday, December 11, 2017

Kerri Shying R # 372 - Load off

Load off

things to watch out for
when stomach  slows 
to a crawl    Sunday’s meal
on Monday undigested  pantry door
on strike   removal
of the society of cutlery

I start
to seek the sweet things
fast-fix   jolts
across the shunting yards
thunderstopping crash

return to liquid food    go
disconnect    the haute cuisine
that mountain you were
just last week
on top of    ha    food selfies
a shake’s a shake

beige makes all the colours stood beside it
stand out
how minutiae

Kit Kelen #709 - no telling the days apart

no telling the days apart

still careful with our observations

here's healing
and a fall of leaves

one veranda from another
a blowfly buzzes

it's likewise
antechinus runs
in and out of the night
tomorrow as yet undecided

the chainsaw gang make Sunday
the day when the trees lie down

Sunday, December 10, 2017

Rob Schackne #541 - "Who first spilled" (for Keith Jones)

Who first spilled
booze for fun

the moment is unsung  
was it before money
looked up at the moon

every drink they took
was barely figured out
if he or she were alive today
we'd all be interstellar 

sitting in a transit bar
remembering the parties
how fond of them we were

Kit Kelen #708 - a carpe diem (one of a not quite infinite number)

a carpe diem
one of a not quite infinite number

so bright
the day of every hour
all Christmas in the offing

away before the sun is much
day into my heart
most welcome

busy by wing
and ant along
shone by leaf

day strong with its shine
and clouds as called
they're just for illustration

and loud!
what choruses for chaos

you see how hope was meant first
that day was this way honest

towards the longest of them all

all risen
trill of the tap
to garden run

tangle of all up with us

I simply must have dreamt to here
smoke cleared
so shown the world of mirrors

shed rattles with me
I'm the question

who's loudest here?
I am

I name this Sunday just the once
I won't be here again

Kerri Shying R # 371 - SPECIAL DELIVERY


so cruel  the email
asking  do I want  a fifty dollar
gift card    click through
click through  spend the next month
fending off the shills
from insurance lines  and
cruises    time shares  all
the tender bruises
of my wanting

Saturday, December 9, 2017

Rob Schackne #540 - I Won't Ever

I Won’t Ever

I spoke to my class
about wildlife and trees
everywhere the pieces
these aching bones
then the butterflies
exceedingly beautiful
sure I won’t forget

the ten bestsellers
on inequality
shit I won't ever
get out of here alive

but thank you
for the wake-up

like a crack in
charge of a tea cup

whips immortality
the brandishing
the other mortality

we don't drop it
the dead walking away

Kerri Shying R # 370 Wake up

Wake up

It took one full day
with a walk
and the taking of a young boy
to learn how to walk a small dog
long conversation
with another elder one
the rounding of the garden seeking
patterns  clues  calls from birds
where yesterday there weren’t
to find my glasses
peeking out
behind the armrest of the scooter
each journey
calls the next
a fool

Kit Kelen #707 - when I have everything in place

when I have everything in place

some tree with its flowers fallen
another heavy with fruit

all this drunk stumble we call nature
not knowing what day it is
all for the main chance

I had everything set
the map went under

someone reached up to gather a handful
called ourselves God then
kept heart home

under a moon
under a mountain
under the cloud closes

woe betide who wasn't the chorus
sword, fire stake, neck rope
here's your hemlock

lie down to take the waters, the air

then I brew
stagger off, make an end

when I have gone to ground
morning - just stiff flesh sticks

reach up
and out of all proportion
won't remember a thing

just that yes there was a dream
inebriant my light

sleep off

then only then
the world would turn

everyone was there
from the same bottle

the opening of all that's now
the far far specks of time

each knowing as little
as the next

that is/was why
the roads all over

under a moon
a mountain
a cloud

steady on
reach up for

all distances are equal to it
the little night of stars

Friday, December 8, 2017

Kerri Shying R # 369 - The Interloop

The Interloop

My first steel stilletto
heel    stuck fast
between the thin carved slats
 bright chestnut

and pull as I might
riding up the escalator
 a tricked-up teen
 at Wynyard

it was rip the damn thing 
off    or mangle
 like the washing  
 and I cried

Kit Kelen #706 - summer loves us

summer loves us

past spring's last page this wilderness

who knows why the birds want in
maybe too much day has made them dizzy

and we sing along
cicadas much in mind

spiders cast cob
windows web

breath comes slower now
things rot fast

all summer loves
much winged the empty air

and insects crawl
smaller than seeing

the whole sky's over me
every last inch

clouds come forested to tell

turns out we're so much skin
it's just how we're bitten

just watch the landscape rising

limbs of the autumn trim spread out

then let the house grow too
we're not Norwegians, we won't paint
but sit and drink with them

world swells
till will it burst? who knows?
no one's ever come this far

there must be some Malthus Cassandra
has to be choked at birth

all to-do arrows
are every whichway

even sleeping
splash of light
summer loves us still

air's denizens
make tangents sharp
and coo and trill and swim

aren't we sunk?
can't we see the surface?
won't we shine
just looking up?

there must be a ladder out of all this

or are we come to dust?

James Walton #85 Old joke in a sunny spot, yesterday

At the corner of Princes
and Cemetery Parade East
where Lygon Street leaves the shops
and tries to become a suburb
a billboard hangs off the iron balustrades
announcing Exclusive Grave Sites
Going Fast Enquire Now

(you might have to slow to see it)

it’s one of those days
when the sun is as gentle
as lips on your forehead
and I have to laugh out loud
here as the mad traffic hurtles by
the bus horn detonates a moment
just enough to save a jay walker

(at the sign, not the jay walker)

whose earphones want to make that call
the fates almost colliding in pathos
an Ethiopian guy from the estate
hanging on amidst the private developments
smiles at me a rueful headshake
and I shouldn’t (I know)  but it happened
Yeah, they’re dying to get in there

Rob Schackne #539 - Beneath Tāne Mahuta

Beneath Tāne Mahuta

Like thunder 
my dear elephant
at the heart of the world
cousins talk like birds
blue above the green
the sacred kauri tree
my older brothers

we've walked this far
never seen things
so slowed down
green beneath the blue
please use your heart
now disease is falling
one sick leaf by one