this black octopus head
it is enormous, one lives inside this vast
octopus head, feeds it
herring or perch—one wears red robes
moving in and out of the building
everything is demagnetized, deionized
one drinks only heavy water
the only water that flows
in this immense octopus head

there are no stars here
a veil of white, within the octopus head
certain celestial bodies shimmer
beautiful with radiation—one walks
in red robes beneath this immense,
flexible roof—it covers the entire hemisphere
one moves in and out through dim
corridors in this vast octopus head

small quivering celestial bodies smoke,
burn inside the eyelid
of the octopus eye—
one sits there in red robes
writing poetry of one’s visions
as if opium, ego denial,
equilibrium in this pathology—
a more beautiful kind of pathology
of stanzas, of fragments
taking shape under this enormous
octopus head—it trembles and pulses
and celestial bodies burn
beneath the eyelid
an eye as large as an outer planet
staring into this vast darkness
people sit beneath it
in red robes, writing
poetry about this eye
this macabre, beautiful eye
to lie down beneath in the evening
in one’s vast home
inside this unfathomable octopus head