Far stranger things have revealed themselves
in the spaces between the mundane and the much-more-than,
where bees unlock voix celeste,
where the dead just want All Fours partners.
He done learn sometimes the unknown
just need someone to sing in their direction.
When the guest holds out a tendril,
say ‘my daughter loves your work’,
Kitch already grinning.
Whatever words share in this moment
I could only believe:
song-stories from new and wilder places
trade in the breaths between uncapped marker
and stained vellum skin. Hastur nods.
How often do you get the chance
to share a moment this grand?
It must have stunned him to pure silence
thick enough to be mistaken
for dread.