The Kicker

What happens to a kicker,

caught in the threads of responsibility?

Responsibility,

with hydra’s heads and a woman’s body,

is futility.

So he tries to live alone

above shopfronts dealing in abandon.

Without electricity

the squatter lights another candle

saying “There’s no soundtrack for the silence.”

for the writer, alone with the spirits,

or was it wine?

The divine shell of the right word?

Under the spell of the moon,

a voyeur by trade

caught in a strange perfume.

The ever-shifting paths

now at crossroads to illume

the hiker with boots caked in mud

or something immaterial like blood

from warriors felled long ago.

Scars on the terrain he taps with bamboo

staffs left on the side of the path

to one day resume the circle, reborn.

The kicker

detached and transient

on truck beds and benches with no blanket,

in rot gut alleys with marquee-lit features,

a fractured passenger,

through the shadow

of sunsets and season’s shift,

he’s circles in the reverance,

like wind and gone.

All the possibilities

peopled with walls that enclose

the character in a chapter,

while pages fall

flimsy to the willful winds.

See them blown like feathers

into the atmosphere,

to be hung for ages

from the axis there,

these sages shaving

secrets they do not fully reveal.

Here they leave you stranded

without boundaries of form,

secluded personalities reborn

through fleeting doors.

The awkwardness of finding words

to forge stakes in a moment,

to pinion the motion of flight

to give breath and devotion

to that which is just out of sight.

Attempting to grasp and pin it down,

you assign words and drown

out the sound of interference,

the majestic OM

the wind blOWs,

kicking up dust in its disappearance.

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8 thoughts on “The Kicker

  1. Went from duality to singularity.

  2. annotating60 says:

    It might have lost one character ponder this at some point in Moby Dick, Melville maqkes Ishmael the narrator completely disappeqar and still writes two hunfred more pages of some the most Gor warring prose/poetry before his mqan reappears to be saved. KB

  3. cindy knoke says:

    this is beautiful. very evocative imagery that builds.

  4. blueangelwolf says:

    This poem goes deep…………. beyond speech.

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