In China (when I lived there)
in restaurants
it was normal
a 1/4 acre of food
it all arrives
the same time
everyone got
one bite hot
before it’s cold
spins on the table
and faster
in winter
always
the hilarity
excess
and waste
of everything
plastic bags
and containers
out before
they left
gone before
you knew it
Rob Schackne #2 – Dábāo Read More »
Born in New York, he lived in many countries until Australia finally took him in. He was a Foreign Expert EFL teacher in China for many years. He now lives in Castlemaine, Vic. where he enjoys the blue skies, fresh air and the birds. There were some extreme sports once; now he plays (mostly) respectable chess and pool. A Moonbeam’s Metamorphosis/The Parachuting Man (with Nicholas Coleman) was published in 1979 by LEFTBANK PORTFOLIOS (Melbourne). He published two poetry collections in Shanghai: Snake Wine (2006) and Where Sound Goes When It’s Done (2010). A Chance of Seasons was published by Flying Island Books in 2017.
More recently some of his poems have appeared in The Anthill, Oz Burp (Five) zine, Ariel Chart, The Blue Nib Magazine, Bluepepper, The Rye Whiskey Review, Pink Cover Zine, The Raw Art Review, OutlawPoetry, HUSK, the Sappho Lives! Anthology (2019, 2020), Taking Shape (Newcastle Poetry at the Pub Anthology, 2018, 2019, 2020), and the Messages From The Embers bushfire anthology (Black Quill Press, 2020).
When he’s not writing, he likes taking photographs. He listens to the Grateful Dead. Some days he thinks there is nothing easy about the Tao.
Some recent poems…
My strength ebbs away
like a grip on the tide
dangerous invitations
I counted most important
rucking forever, battling
sunrises and sunsets
past the moments
I might’ve stopped
working up the plate rack
what was I thinking
small animals press
a hundred times their weight
now watch me blow
ants have no problem
cats vault fences
I used to measure
now measure other things
Some carry everything
even their survival
dragged till sundown
just imagine it
all the food in the world
and the pockets of nothing
eating bitterness
hold yours tight
never let me go
imagine the pillow
beneath your head
the limited supply
deal with it they said
can’t eat any more
have another bite
imagine Big Got
clean clothes well fed
his children wait
the pie in the sky
sits at the rainbow
gets on the next bus
The violence of noise
music as a place to think
the wind is howling
call it peace
cleaning my igloo
the desperate times
that are returned to
their prepositions
or call it protest
against a war
I cannot fracture
however gently
revisiting the light
During an altercation
in a bar one night
she saved my ass
my back was turned
he came up with a knife
she hit him with a bottle
she was from the mountains
they believe in hard things
it was then I fell in love
big arms and shoulders
every inch of her 6 foot tall
it was such a simple thing
when we were leaving
she stomped hard on his hand
after that the graceful years
Lord she was so tender
her feet were lovely &
she loved me very well.
Head sounds like a drum when it’s scratched
Left ear still sore after a blow 25 years ago
A throat that lost its whisper song and shout
A lonely whisker creeps to just below the eye
The neck that shook the bridge for days is weak
The old chest looks full but the heart is hollow
Old comrades say that vitamins will put it right
(A pity the right side doesn’t quite match the left)
Broken leg the pelvis spine back my knees and feet
Sore from a million steps in the wrong direction
A cough that alerts the dog who begins to bark
The doctors say there will be no more fighting
I climb the stairs slowly to my small apartment
Grateful that my eyes can still see you waving
While you hang the wind in your white clothes.