When I lower my eyelids
Down here in the basement
Shutting out this city neighbor
Hood I can begin to hear the wind
Ruffled fur and smell the decaying mouse
Making no sound outside my window



The stars 
captured mayflies 
in crystalline suspension
 echo their harmonies.

Each  unique instrument
across this spectrum
adds to the symphony
  of the multiverse.

Hearts explode 
within the macroplasm.
 Lungs expand and collapse here.

Shadows of  these events 
seen as  grotesque forms  
interplay against the interior
of these lit up circus tents.

  The filaments of rungs 
to which we've clung 
remain as diminishing
 notes ever present. 

  We who are shown clearly 
are now fleeting
  from the point of view 
of the stars 



Just because I dreamed that I fell off the Earth 
and while I dropped through outer space slung 
shot from our planet's thrall and out to bank 
about the Sun only to be further outward flung 
to drop away from our fuzzy gray Oort Cloud 
and glowing Astrosphere into the spinning 
gravity well of the nearest star system only 
about four light years away from here and 
dried like a mummy on the way only to be 
resurrected on another planet in a drop of 
water doesn't mean it couldn't really happen.