Red dot :: poems

Red dot

Welcome to this minimalist selection of poems, mostly written during a recent trip to Singapore and Bali, with a few subsequent ones, and the illustrations, taking the exploration further.

Tired,

tending to sleep

after long day,

drained.

Curiously happy.

Couple at beachside cafe

eyes glued to laptops.

World seen through small glass screen.

In the background, waves crash

trees grow, sun shines,

as they have since before humanity.

Invitation to be with the infinite,

gentle, unheard.

Invitation to be.

At the temple on Petitenget

    
Who understands the divine?
The itch for the here and beyond,
immanent and transcendant,
present and unperceived.

    
We catchers of shards of what we
don’t understand
knowing the divine cannot be
known
words don’t work, but we
struggle on
letting their imperfection point to where
they cannot go.
All art, music, creativity, strain
to where they cannot reach
but honour in the seeking
more than they would if the
seeking deluded itself that it was finding
(except that the delusion would be another failing
in which the divine were glimpsed,
unaware)

    
And in the corner of a
temple, unobserved, sit
and be with that
which cannot be named

    
and is honoured more
in the attending to than in the
understanding.

Temple cat

Attentive, present,

crapping in the entranceway

killing mice:

tending the holy

by doing the things

we can’t see as holy.

Meditating, after ceremony

Present-not-present

to what I

understand-not-understand

sitting in the afterglow of

symbols, gestures and ceremonies

that point-not-point

to the divine understood-not-understood

Present-not-present

to beyond-not-beyond

here

not-known.

By Lake Bratan

Lake — food

temple — peace with gods

terraces — food

temple — peace with gods

peace with the gods — beauty

food — gift of the gods

life.

Denpasar

A small girl sits by roadside at traffic lights,

fondling small change,

weeping.

A boy, slightly bigger, brother perhaps,

kicks her, not unaffectionately.

I feel the urge to comfort

but cannot:

rendered impotent by car and language

My car I cannot leave

— for fear of blocking the traffic

my speech I cannot use

— lacking enough Indonesian.

Humanity denied

by machine — supposed to help

and tongue — stopped.

Lying in a pool

floating

in balance

arms go up — legs go up

arms go down — legs go down

sunshine receiving

nourished

held.

“masseur” dejected

in corner of “boutique”

fronting massage parlour.

wanting customers — absent

seeking tourists — sex for money

prostitute

destitute

desparate

alive

struggling

alive.

Walking through food court

I see

young man with iPad, watching movie, oblivous

old woman with zimmer frame, bent, moving slowly

different worlds

together

iPad — envy

zimmer frame — fear of needing

technology

helping

anaesthetising

being enabling

St Andrew’s Cathedral, Singapore

Cathedral, once proud, dominating

tall above the houses.

Powerful gleaming symbol of strength,

of powerful God, tamed.

Colonial power.

Church of England of former times.

Now dwarfed by office blocks and shopping malls

— modern temples.

Inside the leaflets speak of strength

— grasped at —

God to be bidden and controlled.

But in the Saturday morning silence

— no service at this time —

something else is heard-not-heard:

gentle

unforcing

present

timeless

power-transcending

honest.

Fern on tin roof

Perched precariously

on tin roof

a fern

growing

as if rooted in nothing

yet growing

nourished.

Last day

Parting

tears

loss

good friends

left behind

Real

connection

closeness

aliveness

Loves

mourned

loss

longing

loves lost returned to.

Love.

Going back

putting on

exoskeleton

defences

holding safe space

within

defended

from what is not safe

carrying

a light

concealed

space

within

constellated with

complicated love

possible-not-possible

rooted in the deepest, least nameable part.

Another figure

Other figure

talisman

space-within-without

in touch with

what’s not seen, not known

bridge

to what cannot be known

apophatic

incarnate

mythic

being-within-without

alive

in face of destruction

en arche en hor logos

finding, holding

a new space?

or a very old one

unrecognised?

en arche

And the words in italic? Actually the opening words of John’s gospel in greek: “In the beginning was the word”

Conscious

unconscious

inner life, unawakened

denied, shut off

lived, unconsciously

honoured by not being honoured

depths — real depths —

loveliness

perceived

inherited

seen in the not-seen

the not-mentionable honoured

by not being mentioned

beauty in what is allowed to be

unconsciously.

We travel too far,

each time, land,

change language, phone, clothes, food

moving

rushing

never arriving

touching

being.

What would it be

to be somewhere

once

for real?

Mist hugging the ground

trees

half hidden

half magic.

Mysterious light of dawn

enchanting

in what’s seen

by almost being unseen.

Cold

seeping to the bone

an aching for love

unreturned

numb in absence

frozen to the core

embers of hope

dying.

Asia

Pardox

possible

not possible

stranger

at home

opportunity

unreachable

reachable?

I Ching

Six lines:

some see beauty,

some see order,

some see the heart of the tao,

some see a gateway to the archetypal,

some see the balance of opposites,

the inevitability of change,

some see a way to predict good luck.

Some see.

Black and white

Black

white.

Good

bad.

Black-in-white,

white-in-black.

Harmony.

Balance.

Good-bad?

Tired