the un-bucket list, reprised from Project 366

 Kit Kelen #1320 - the un-bucket list

1320

the un-bucket list

the tightwire

high dive

firewalk

I’m not pinning on the lion’s tail

won’t be me goes for the gallop

balloon trip

base jump

no shark dive

I’m not going in the volcano

I won’t drive a locomotive

I won’t fly a plane

heat of the front line battle

and there are certain books

lion’s den

viper’s pit

crawl under the barbed wire to freedom

don’t want to be in parliament either

casual teaching

no need to learn to chainsaw

dive in a cave

go under the ice

all power to spies

risking their lives

defending what must be the truth

I’ll take truth every time

no dare!

I won’t be taking

the diving bell

Everest ascent

there’s barely a beast

I’d take by the horns

I will not ride the tiger

Lands End to Thurso

by whatever means?

it won’t be me that you’ll see

and I won’t fire the gun

play whist

I won’t inspire belief

consort with major criminals

fence goods, sing like canary

it’s not for me

to declare the war

dare the devil

do or die

won’t throttle the bike at high speed

much less dance on the whirlwind

let me skip steep ski slopes

may lightning never strike me

despite some messianic moments

I won’t be resurrected

issue fatwas

wear the black cloth cap

won’t weave carpet

mend motor

play rugby union

I can’t bear to watch

if I can avoid

helicopter, hospital

injections, suppositories

castor oil, cod liver

brains, black pudding

anything too big to swallow

a simple somersault

…

then I’ll a happy man

happy to list

any hazardous occupation

more generally, there’s work

I’ve found almost all paid employment sucks

shaving’s something I won’t do

also moonshot

Marswalk

the whole of the bottle at the one sitting

and magic?

no sawing assistants in half

I won’t even start an old religion

I’ll try not to cast the first stone

no hunger strikes

no beauty pageants

trophies on the wall

I’m not going after big game

these are things not on my post-its

no magnet holds them to my fridge

I guess I must lack aspiration

to be writing out these lines

I shall not descend into the maelstrom

I must not dive for pearls

I don’t care how much grease you’ve got

I’m reluctant to go down the pole

I will not swim the Channel

I won’t climb a tree  

though I see the cat’s up there

and often I’ve been put to task

certain piles I dare not excavate

clichés lived and not to challenge

I’ll take my critique just so far

I couldn’t wean myself off rhyme

I’ll never catch a kangaroo

and gladly, no one wants me to

perhaps I’ll never show them

but I can live with that

I’ll never see every inch of Australia

I may yet throw a pot on a wheel

compose and even dance a jig

find some cheap bauble words to steal

certainly I’d give a fig

for leafy genitalia

and yet

these things don’t make my to-do

they may raise a knowing smile

I never was a fan of reason

mildness

delicate decorum  

I cannot promise not to pun

there’s much attending I won’t list

for instance, taken as read

brush my teeth and make my bed

I won’t say any prayers

though I am ever wishful still

and hope to go on listing

give me the beachwalk

the garden

my yoga

the chocolate

(hot/cold taps)

sunshine to catch

an evening snifter

these tales by the fire

fine food and friends

never say never they say

but still

it’s cosy here

tucked up in bed

still passion’s slave

when roused

full of beans

ideas just get better

and death?

I was never brave enough

so let’s give it a miss

… if you’ll just cosy up beside

I’ll settle for a kiss

#286 - there IS a conspiracy

 

5.x.20

286

there is a conspiracy

 

you bold it, up the font

 

wink nudge for boys

they will be

as with mother’s milk

(which powder will conspire against)

 

it’s fungible – your fear

 

take nudge wink men

will say

grow with the disease

(what does not kill me…)

 

say we love…

make great

fill in the blank

 

here, have yourself a forever

(delicious)

 

unflinch

cock this

and in the nightsight

fake a moon to land

(there are many)

fill your veins with pulse

aliens size up

 

there is a conspiracy of songbirds

 

a murder of judges

and so-called war

(I don’t believe and you can’t make me)

 

this is the Land of … repeat after me

have you noticed the market?

 

conspiracy of the willing numb

bring on industry

shake

pour on and over

sprinkle with these

it kills ‘em all real fast

 

every other conspired against

creature, I mean, of course

 

there’s hunger

and whoever died of that?

I wrestle Descartes’ demon down

 

they want things back

a share

same rights

 

but know not the promised skin?

this God is mine

bend knees

 

in the tiny hamlet of Overfeeding

here is privilege denied

(as in the whiteness of a theft)

and

so say all is ours

and

so say all is ours

 

there is a conspiracy of flags, of anthems

there is a trafficking of maps

all words look foreign to me

 

it’s always a certain suburb you hear crackling

something severe – the overnight blaze

a knife down a drain grate

 

breeze washes clean

 

from out of the bowl

a crocodile snap

 

the good old boys drinking

 

sometimes see the overlapping worlds

mostly nothing to say

 

Earth’s round in every direction  

though some will say a little pear shaped

and no one’s looked under to check

 

I was just explaining my language 

so utterly betrayed

 

ending it

they call

cough up

 

who will dare say otherwise now?

probably you won’t have noticed

sudden ache of loss come on

      just when

glory shines around 

                   

#285 - day of one hour less

 

4.x.20

285

day of one hour less

 

did I say stolen?

 

start early

it’s a day on steroids!

and lends a certain urgency

 

do little things today

turn pockets out

know the hours to sing

 

an hour to sleep

one hour for breakfast

a day dream

how we go

 

something’s misplaced in such a day

lost when I threw myself off

idea won’t come back the same

time takes its toll

 

seven is the new six and so on

this goes on all through the day

 

no one’s watching

 

in sunshine still a day diminished

 

this much less of me

all one hour older we were

 

as much as the saying of summer

for every here a now

 

and here in my head

always too much to see

 

a city in the clock

and this decree

no leaf

nor blade of grass

to heed

 

a harvest of weeds

make mulch

 

and quickly quickly

scratch your poem down

the garden is going again

#284 - four poems -- two trumperies + call and response + pillow talk

 

3.x.20

284

four poems

(including two trumperies)

 

 

 

call and response

 

moon takes the roofs

and Mars behind

most stars dim to the fullness

 

not even a little misted

but here-and-there glint

shone tin

night’s clear

 

rabbit, Old Man, cheese, Chang E

and must we moon for?

 

Jupiter crowned with its own

no naked eye from here will find

little Saturn has a few

run rings

 

everyone’s looking up to see

does this moon of ours have a ding in?

 

bats wings it

with a little whoosh

 

are we pondshone bright to be?

every frog says so

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

pillow talk

 

and this one snores

one lulls

another is for lewd suggestion

 

the pillows talk!

have a whole range

 

will you be first for the fable?

 

between the pillow and the slip

gossamer – you decide

 

here lay a head

and thought wash

 

nothings are sweet

but we have as well

vistas collected from back in the day

dream suggestions

deeps of meaning

 

some pillows talk the thing up

do an anxious agitation

 

we have for doom

and fits of dark

this one’s presage

roll over

 

who will make the first leap?

or trampoline this

all for one

and me for you

 

a special erogenous zoned model

with Aphrodite’s nightie
and a flying Spaniard flew

 

one will pleasantly support

and does a lovely groan

 

we go by Agra to it

Taj me a mahal –

(but that’s too expensive)

 

prop you up

no, not the elbows

 

say also

bring a stethoscope

trick wits

part with grammar

 

and swallow this

it’s mechanical

with haunches

and all pride

 

jazz pillow

classical with storms

 

nobody wants the poetry pillow

won’t let you think

would you rather Jung’s or Freud’s?

 

my side or yours?

smooth for the dying

 

here we have predictions

there’s ticker tape as well

contemporary account I mean

though much is punk

bid and offer

given voice

the market on its bell

get set

bulls, bears

and you go hunting up

 

here’s one wept for grief

self-sobbing

 

crick in yours

tingle too

everyone has a story

 

famous places

flowers remembered

everyone put to their own private shame

 

 

and we’ll sing

 

of course the pillow is recording too

there will be a DNA trace

and we know who you are

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

two trumperies

to celebrate the corona-potus’ triumphant entry

into the Walter Reed National Military Medical Centre

(Cretan Liar Series)

 

 

he gives himself an excuse to lose

 

privilege to breathe the very air

sent

out of an abundance of caution

 

in good spirits and mercy mild

still might yet smite

 

it’s a beat up

fakes his own

why should we believe it?

 

does a catastrophe end?

can we cram all into a single skin?

this one has its own hospital cocktail

sweet suite

 

remember decency?

 

everyone – even his vilest foe –

is praying hard for him

 

I feel great again

don’t you?

 

 

 

 

after Trump

 

nothing ever the same

 

a hunger of bridesmaids

 

here at them

octopus Houdini

the greatest con artist of the century so far

 

insult to the species (among all others)

he is a one man extinction

 

after Trump

(so aptly named)

 

what can be done to tweet?

 

the clown pope

the queen cross dressed, done up in tatts

the Virgin Whoring Mary

there’ll be Justices of War not peace

manic Buddha

Jesus on the make

Confucius say what the fuck

ride a rocket cowboy

 

from now on it’s all tripping up cripples

poking the blind in the eye

 

feed the bubbas stolen candy

grow up smug like Him  

 

this is how time there will be measured

before and after Trump

 

compare him with God the Father

old Testament time

spiteful and vengeful and jealous and numb

 

the happy bomb

the darling bullet

these will save your life

 

here, have some animal rage

there isn’t a compass at all

 

after and because of

shake your hand

and shake you you down

 

none dare say there’s no conspiracy

 

tongue down your throat

and a grope

it’s like this

it’s a pussy grab

 

after Trump

nothing ever the same

love in the time of COVID (Aotearoa)

 

https://loveinthetimeofcovidchronicle.com/2020/10/02/a-recital-of-poems-4-manfred-malzahn-les-wicks-michael-oleary-kit-kelen/

#283 - a blossom pause

 

2.x.20

283

a blossom pause

 

and snooze it

under a dripping sky

with such whiff

 

think thunder to cause things

and find myself in tune in time

 

geranium hum

under sunbrim

 

garden midst

signs no one’s yet read

 

at Peach Creek

in orange blossom

and by lemonade

rose red to leaf and tip

but no bloom for a while

 

a hornpipe in the reedy bits

and sat on a frond for song

 

some chatter in the limbs avow

explorers’ lines dot the gone

what’s in their wake?

 

limit the palette so as to croon

here we are building like the storm

 

mock orange too

vine climb

heights of let-me-guess

 

brought with the bees

because we’re here

 

a coleus call

all leaf to trick

 

past paths grow over

now who is it here?

 

have you seen time standing –

this treasure –

it’s there in the stillness beside ourselves

 

stand, unfold, my friends

come into the conversation

 

where, known minutely

each more than the map

no one sees the mountain now

 

lay down among

eyes up

pants falling

 

ephemera to

skies are faster

 

it’s how we survive ourselves