I have fallen while the stars of endless
endless sucking skies have sucked me down.
Here, I have lain broken on the burning lawns of Hell—
fingers, arms, soul stretched to the point of no return
to catch a wind that sings and does not sigh
with the souls of a million million soulless men.
I have slept and dreamt of rising.
Dreamt the cool nakedness of space
beyond the shell of light that sucks me down.
And I have spent my fists with the soulless men
against the blackened skies of Earth and the blazing
incandescent trails of souls arriving—
falling no farther.
To dream this night of rising
and the cool nakedness of space
Published in “souls arriving,” 2007: in “Between Music and Dance,” 2013: “Letter to the White Imbongi,” 2013. “3201 e’s,” 2018.