poetry

Post
To Lu Xun, From The Iron House

A poem by Rob Schackne

 

Locked inside the iron house

Seventeen others are snoring

There are no windows anywhere

No ventilation means we’re dying

READ ON...

Post
Bar Life

poem for Friday night – by Rob Schackne

 

She sits down too close to me

and orders a bottle of red wine

already loaded fast busting up

with her boyfriend on the phone

READ ON...

Post
While The Clouds Blow In From The South

A new poem by Rob Schackne

 

Inner Mongolia or Nei Menggu

shares an international border

with Mongolia (of course) and Siberian Russia

it stretches almost two and a half thousand kilometres

READ ON...

Post
A New Nursery Rhyme for Beijing

A poem by Canaan Morse

 

Rain, rain start to fall,

wash the window-studded walls.

Through the sewers thread your way,

flush the oil out to sea.

READ ON...

Post
Museum of locks

A poem from Shanghai, by Rob Schackne

 

Every time I go across the river

My taxi passes a tiny place called

The Museum of Locks, between

Two hapless shops in Fuxing Lu

READ ON...