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
once more.


Published in “souls arriving,” 2007: in “Between Music and Dance,” 2013: “Letter to the White Imbongi,” 2013. “3201 e’s,” 2018.


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