An Audience of Extraterrestrial Apparitions

Turning against the asylum light,

the exiled astronomer finds the ceiling tile

contains an audience of Extraterrestrial Kings,

ten million faces racing through the neurons 

coated in seroquel sequenced by a Phantom 

in some Swiss Chalet, where Einstein is trying to comprehend

what Carl Jung and Freud were thinking 

when the Scarab flew through the window and the Book

landed on the floor, 

a thud that became a precursor of some theorem,

page 137, the Alpha number of a Non Sequitur

balanced for a Moment in the blue light of Zurich,

the clocktower paused like 

an astronomer in the insane asylum, 

where the stars are conversing with the darkness in the 

strange language of the unborn,

the doctors repeat the equation, the delirium races from eye to eye 

in whirlwinds of semiotic significance, 

every cheekbone turned florid with Stories that have never been finished,

plots undiscovered by poets,

rainbows whose madness is the cure for salvation. 

**

In the cotton of the miracle weirdness, a world of slipstreams 

and the eyelids of Grasshoppers racing around the green field,

dreaming of some starry chalice beyond the blue sky, where the 

human heart is an oscillation of the darkness, interpolations 

of the Beginning and end of Time,

sailors of the Asylum racing towards the dawn on ships made of the bones of whales. 

*

In the abyss, a green human eye is a Temple of Vultures:  the asylum 

contains the sadness of an Exquisite cadaver, 

the fleshy womb of disintegrating ghosts, a Carnival of Angels

dancing in freckles the color of Jaguar Spots,  fantasias

of the molecular structure of Gold, Silver, an adamantine

query into the nature of the consciousness of the Ocean:

where does the asylum begin?

God's heart, there is an alchemist steering a dragonfly around an amphitheatre

composed of Philosopher's shadows.

The asylum begins to rock, upside down, like the number line 

of Pythagoras as expressed through a Lute,

when the greek Sybil is slipping her face through a cloud of phosphorescent dreams