The light of a place (dawn)
…Whatever place I visit has its own specific light.
Jeju’s light | is an aside | a confirmation of
the usual mask the weather wears
—marginalia of the wind & wet’s intent
that makes the grass still grow in cold
& vines tighten around the trunks of trees.
Seoul’s light is audible | like
the tintinnabulation of church bells—it never ends
& with it comes dead lawns
& fruitless trees through long sub-zero winters.
“Does the sea alter the sky |
or the sky the sea” I remember asking my father
when we came to Jeju
on holiday when I was a kid.
I wish I could remember his reply
—something precise | photo-synthetic.
The turbid smog that smothers Seoul
or even Jeju makes your nose itch.
The world shrinks when the eye
cannot push past its density
—just like I cannot see my future
for the polluted air of my marriage…
A heavily re-worked soliloquy.
If i look into the bulb, direct,
down the corridor of its glow, 20 seconds
& then avert my eyes, my vision switches odd
: a fractal lava lamp—lumps of colour
speckle & morph my usual world, the ghost of paint
—a crayon sketch of the mapped genome,
a daedal holograph of the entire universe,
nebulae gravid with high-res gas & heat,
cells jostling in pigmented fluids,
germs jostling in a microscope—all in my field
until vision flicks normal again after 30 seconds.
Light flashes its innards at us, to know it.
A sperm does not have the will of a child
nor does a man dance like a cell, & yet…
tips: look everything up & down. look into things. looks around them. try to see beyond them to anything on the otherside. hold still. hold breath. keep your eye out. sometimes be patient. know you may have to rush. be ready. imagine your head can swivel 360°. become light & shadow. know the seepage of light. up. down. in slants across n’ up. so much is happening at every moment. there’s ∞ a photograph going on