The view is from the shoes of a dancing
madman laughing at the moon,
as he releases the captured spirits
of Indians from mirrors
he submerges beneath stars
reflecting on the warbling surface
of a satin coated pond.
the lost souls drift up from the water
as twisting mist to crowd around
his one-legged hopping, pirouetting form
like a dim-witted group of lanky
teenage boys waiting for someone
to tell them the direction of their lives.
he tells them
Faith precedes knowledge;
Knowledge releases from faith, and religion.
they lose faith in themselves and disappear.
he baptizes himself, but once under
loses his face
which dies screaming against the surface
of water sure enough to walk on.
the moonlight enlightens
his shoes, left upon the bank,
which turn in the mud to face the distant
approach of a dawn they believe in,
but cannot be certain will arrive.
By Koda | © Koda 1992