Thursday 18 November 2021

We who work in vision

"A scientist is in a sense a learned small boy. There is something of the scientist in every small boy. Others must outgrow it. Scientists can stay that way all their lives."

Speech at the Nobel Banquet in Stockholm, December 10, 1967.

George Wald, American scientist and Nobel laureate (1906-1997)

Sunday 31 October 2021

The Better Man

  
Queueing up at the store
the old man shuffled behind
in torn, ragged clothes

his hair unkempt,
smelling of wet dog –
the other customers stepped back

he was counting his change
a handful of battered coins

his wrinkles sagged like his shoulders
he had stared at sun and rain
with an unflinching face

his hands had seen winters
many winters

he was buying those soggy baguettes
the kind of which gotten
at the bargain section

a can of the cheapest tuna,
two cans of a good brand
of dog food

a tomato, two bananas,
and a couple apples

his hair showed signs of combing
those from a hand once firm
those which lack a mirror

then he muttered to himself
clenched his fistful of cents
left the queue in a hurry –
the people moved like an ebbing wave

the picture of him feeding his dog
better than he fed himself
of him trying to keep himself
and his clothes
neat

oblivious of his dog's smell

I moved the checkout divider
told the cashier I'd pay for his items

when he came back he didn't notice
he had picked a third can
when the cashier didn't stop
he extended his hand
she told him – she repeated
he didn't seem to understand

he looked at me
he opened his mouth
twice
he had no words
I nodded
he nodded

his food in his crumpled bag
he moved to go out
twice he turned back
I didn't look
too busy daring glares
at the judging crowd behind

when I got outside
I saw him near the door
his dog was happy to see him
nuzzling in his armpit
whimpering
patches of skin showing
through the shaggy fur

something broke inside
perhaps his dog thought
he'd been abandoned again
perhaps the man had forgotten
the impulse of charity

he held his dog's head
for the longest time

maybe that was their happiness
showing through the rents
their way of greeting
an unexpected stroke of luck

come dinner they would eat
out of their tin cans
smile, nod at one another
pick their teeth clean

he would tell his dogs
stories of the old days
and they would fall asleep
content, reassured

him patting his dog
happy he could get
the food he likes

come morning he would
try his best again
to look as decent as he could
comb his hair,
fasten his belt,
get enough food
to bring them both
safe and fed
till the next morning

he was
without a doubt
the better man
 

Thursday 3 June 2021

Etched in crumbling stone

  

"'Writing' is the Latin of our times. The modern language of the people is video and sound."

Lawrence Lessing, attorney and political activist (Wikimania conference, August 2006)

Monday 26 April 2021

Fields of knowledge


“There is a beauty in discovery. There is mathematics in music, a kinship of science and poetry in the description of nature, and exquisite form in a molecule. Attempts to place different disciplines in different camps are revealed as artificial in the face of the unity of knowledge. All literate men are sustained by the philosopher, the historian, the political analyst, the economist, the scientist, the poet, the artisan and the musician.”

Glenn T. Seaborg, chemist, Nobel laureate (1912-1999)

Tuesday 13 April 2021

All the wrong places

I've been looking for you in all the wrong places
down in the soggy dregs of coffee in my cup
I would try to tilt and turn the little bits
until they might shape into your face
but they dried so I had to give up

I've been looking for you in all the wrong places
up in the stars, connecting the dots to each
unsure if Vega was a good start or end
until I ran out of breath and space
as none were within reach

I've been looking for you in all the wrong places
into the bubbles of the foam in my bath
I would watch and listen to them pop
until I unsaw the mirrored gaze
and became Sylvia Plath

I've been looking for you in all the wrong places
through long nights of browsing Tinder
each ghost had something of you
until you would be effaced
drowned in cinders

I've been looking for you in all the wrong places
in between written words and musical notes
through hundreds of songs and poems
until I could no longer retrace
what I'm sure was a quote

I've been looking for you in all the wrong places
for you might have passed by in old Polaroids
I even checked VHS tapes and jigsaws
until no left-over puzzle piece
could surely fit the void

I've been looking for you in all the wrong places
in footsteps I never heard, in scented eaux
I never smelt, deaf and blind to signs
that you might not ever surface
until I have to let you flow

Friday 9 April 2021

1+1

I'd love to thrash the idiot who told you
that happiness is a beautiful feeling
that it is as easy as 1+1

I'd love to catch the simpleton who said
that life is simple, just follow the signs
leaving me wondering where I screwed up

how many times have you genuinely said,
stopped mid-breath, I am happy right now
looked around you in awe and contentment

how many times have you actually said
I was happy back then because this instant
I am fucking miserable, and lonely

how many times have you added up
1+1 and thought you had the answer
why unhappy people thought they were happy

what if happiness was a trap laid down
by the most careful of hunters
catching only the unaware ones

what if unhappiness was a trap set
by the most careless of hunters
always catching the questioners

you see, happiness is like being well
you realise only after you get sick
that things weren't so bad after all

unhappiness is like being in a well
you feel the rising water and you stare up
burning your lungs screaming for help

then you finally grasp that 1+1
cannot be as simple as adding them up
that 1+1 is a fucking black hole

Thursday 8 April 2021

in my mind

whoever I have known might have died somehow
whatever I have touched could have withered
whilst I was only trying to feel alive

half my existence has been dreamt
painful day-to-day wish to belong
and to be someone else, and with

somewhere and somewhen else
because I have always been sad
without genuinely seeing why

even though I do understand how
as dusk brings hordes of breathtakes
and dawn its defibrillating gasp

the desire to persist even though
it means anguish, hurt and longing
the imaginedeath of others

living a mess of shifting somethings
ungrasped only in the twilights
images conjured perhaps
real, perhaps,
but all there
all there
in my mind



Tuesday 23 March 2021

Afterwards

We thought he’d stick it out a little longer
It was a small favour, considering.
He would have all the time he desired
Afterwards.

We had all felt lonely and despondent
At one point or another, for sure.
But we all thought we’d have enough time
Afterwards.

We did everything we could to help out
Even the most absurd of favours.
We thought these would count
Afterwards.

We’d never have agreed to any of this
Down to the simplest request
Had we not believed he’d stick it out
Afterwards.

We were mortified and disappointed
When he decided to leave.
He had played us now and
Afterwards.

Through the wood and up the hole
We knew he was laughing
He alone knew what was coming
Afterwards.

Lichen

The blind woman next to me fidgeting in her seat visibly uneasy brushed my arm as if in need of help with her train ticket but she tricked ...