Smoke-scented Mycelium

The stars' song of slow rotation
Passes through
My blue subduction zone
In a voice strangled by layers
Of eternity
Crying "I exist"

The stars' song of stasis
Is an extant
Marble rolling around
The absolute horizon of the twilight
Upstairs
The hallway that I cannot forget

The stars' song of the visible
They sing through the night-hag
Who is a place
Seared into my every move
My back and yours, the plate on the wall
By the taunting text in the dining room
And that god-damned hall

Fission cruciform
Outstretched
As the fire pools
The wighted egg showed its golden core
Spilled faith by
The front door
The song to perdure

And after you became an epitaph
In shrinking animate fractions, faded
Roused your red flannel smoke-suffused
Mycelium
Belief butchered at the eye
Of the star wheel
Belief butchered at the eye
Of the star wheel
I am here for you now

I have returned from the black
I grasped the ash on the wing
You can't go until I get them back
Fell to the lash, my fractions
Daddy