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, with the blazing
incandescent trails of souls arriving—
falling no further.
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.
Ivor Daniel @IvorDaniel, June 2022: “Intriguing mix of an apocalyptic mood and a faint glimmer of hope here. ‘to catch a wind that sings and does not sigh’ and ‘I have spent my fists’ are really powerful lines.”
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VLBENNETT @vicklbennett, June 2022: “Wow, Kevin! I guess you have hope in the end of the poem, but you get sucked down to hell first to earn it. An interesting poem, nevertheless, as a dreamscape sort of endeavor. Dreams are funny things; they can start anywhere and end anywhere…”
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