​The Monk, An Initiation

“A list of names on the bottom of the stele - from left to right…”
                                                         —Nestorian Christian Stele, Xi’an

By Kan Ren Jie

​This sun breeds water

 

 

stony, a scar. A name

 

 

an old name to drench,

 

 

a way. The body craves

 

 

 ripping garments. Rough

 

 

entombed, these bodies

 

 

 in cells. Everyday, to face dying

a collection of names.

 Alopen. A face curled, script

 

in curls. Hair. They shaved

hair. Ripping

 

strength. Befriend weakness.

This desert

 

gauntness - for bones

 where we might call - Father.

 

Privations. Ripped flowers.

Devotion, hunger, pure hunger

 

chapped stones, a house -

these monks in torpor, withered

 

to rip like weed-flowers, wild

unsung. Peeling Alopen. Twisted

​beads, coating the sky. 
 
 
 

---

​The Names, Alopen

By ​Kan Ren Jie

Yohannen, Yaolun

To see trees  / shadowing / men
fronds / twisting
 
fronds / scarred scrawls /
collection /
 
beady names / a cell, a curl
script staring:  hewed stone / body
 
/ this body folded / trapping / accustomed
 
vows / end quiet / shave /
 
the hovering / robe / then
 
quiet / then
shattered /
 
then / kneeling / then
a cell, sticking / rattan
 
provisions / 5-time
kneeling / vespers / matins /
twisted quiet.​

Isaac, Rijin
 
We do not know

these names / a monk
nameless /  beads
 
the chewed edges /  a scroll
/ weathered scroll
 
be bishop / be monk /
named silence / wrung


a ball / these bells / gauntness / flared
bone / fleshed / meditation
 
fleshed / the sand-dripped 
robes that cloaked / not exuberance /
 
but lesser
not quiet / true
 
monk / like light / shaved
meaning / John / nameless John /
 
the cutting sun / taping /
the stone / once
 
testament / once
sentinel / now mud-splayed
 
now throat, gulping /
now / severing skin

​Michael, Guangqin
 
Coughing / a man
 
sputum / a man / blanked /
sheet-quiet / hand-fronds
 
palms / reaching to
palms / reaching
 
to the insistence /
to praise. The true
 
doctrine / immutable,
unchangeable /
 
cloudy with stars /
burst flowers /
 
empty, this vessel /
a cell /
 
the kneeling / melding,
to bone.

Nameless, Alopen

Some call him
Abraham / this bone /
of bone, flesh
 
/ of flesh. This missionary /
this man /  this
 
cloak-dust / this
falling / these
 
charcoal-fires / soot-stars
tearing holes /
 
threads, a cloak /
tethered kneeling /
 
sparks / trees 
dancing quiet /
 
tinged trembling /
tinged holy /
 
wrung praise / dust / parading
names / dust-empty/ dust
longing / dust, shifting dawn. 

---

​Antiphon: To Damaged Frescoes

                                  Daqin Pagoda, Xi’an

By Kan Ren Jie

Dust, strangling a man
 This mud bleeds heavy:  hairs
a mouth, a throat. Your wrists


a mud-curled kiss. A tongue
as body, faces panopt. A shadow-
 birth traversing up spines
melding the speech of eyelids
 blaring like water. Scripture broken
 scattered detritus

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a trapped image, traced in stone.
wrinkles that speak of eyes
pour miracle. In concrete,


​that twists cries, melded thick
gobbling a man. We imagine
a pagoda, chants sliding a tunnel of wind
we sing to our gathered hands. We sing
to one another. Headless, curled mountains:
 lunging to light.
                   

---

Kan Ren Jie is a Singaporean writer currently based in Shanghai, China. His poems have recently been featured or are forthcoming in Sweet: A Literary Confection, Barzakh Magazine, Spittoon Monthly, and Voice and Verse Poetry Magazine.