Fall


In a chthonic forest of neurons
there's a well.
You have to be homeless to find it.
What you drink there will be darkness
like wine, but sweeter, stronger.

Relentless moths will batter your eyelids,
your ears, your tongue with
luna-green and sapphire wings

until they enter the soul
through your shadow
transporting into ancestral dreams
their seven billion brilliant silver eggs

kything and calling to you
like anguished angels, "O
fall down, fall down this well!

"For all of us who cannot fall,
you must fall down this well
into your flesh and drown....

That is the only way
you will ever touch the stars.”

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