In the long and lonely corridors

where light takes form

on the throne where bones don't sit

in airtight bulbs beneath

massive spires of force fielded water

blue jays and red cardinals

flying over black and white squared floors

swinging doors of the faux core generator

one feather drips with burning ink

above the dry bleached sinks

where bloodied water sank through drains

under pines and piles

of leaves and other fallen things

a sperm computer breathes

and cracks the egg of space

one tunnel through erased horizons

holds its shape around an unseen face.