Vapors

I feel the wind breath through the walls,
it moans with ancient lights,
ghost stars from galaxies never existing.

Traces of morning kiss with spiders
in the crypt of noon,
the moon brings luna lips
from its bathtub,
as I slip into a vortex of planetary calluses,
each blistered song of their nightmares
has plumes with eon old talons,
digging through the veil
over my dirge cauldron.

Canvas spread before inner eyes
grows barnacles from cannibal tongues,
they build a tabernacle of rainbows,
glowing as inferno among igloos.

Radiation from its combustion
turns the gossamer membrane
of my tent
transcends its fabric,
becoming a mist
spreading fingers towards the cosmos,
sewn to quilt having no seams,
dove released touches horizon
swallowed in pure, unbridled birth
where every vibration becomes a psalm.