Caesar's story isn't mine, and neither is that of Icarus

[Achebe]

Hi Lydish - nice imagery, perhaps spend work required on building the argument
If the intent is to portray an unreliable narrator, then the Icarus argument is a bit of a stretch even for that 

Caesar’s story is whispered in VENI VIDI VICI 
but once he was a boy, ( like me, like you), 
and he came from a womb, all the same. ..... "womb" brings up the caesarean association. Not sure if that's intentional (why, if so?)
     Many years later, my story may cycle in the wind, in the waves; .....nothing in the rest of the poem argues for this supposition. If by 'story cycling' you mean the opposite of being remembered, like Caesar, then why the "may"?
     none of it matters in these dawn time days. .......the "waves / days" half rhyme grates a bit


My world creates my reality creates my home. 
     I’d like to build a worldly house with a sky blue roof and oak bound foundations, 
     connected altogether within your wild walls and berry flower ceilings 
     (at least, I hope, my world will have you all over.) .....I don't get the metaphor here. You'd like to create a "house" - perhaps your life - with oaken foundations ("oak bound" makes no sense to me) -but your world creates your reality, so really, the foundations are anything but oaken. Unless the oaken and sky blue are just whimsically thrown in there and can be replaced by "plastic" and "sheet metal".

But first, to grow: 
     an ambitious mutating willow 
     until all that matters not is so far below 
     that even my roots don’t know .....it's ok to have rhymes scattered loosely through a poem, but the sudden inclusion of four jerky, forced rhymes here is jarring. Also, what happened to the house metaphor?

Last night, I dreamt I was Icarus, who tumbled all the way down from his apotheosis, and drowned in the ocean blue. .......I'd prefer not having the inversion here. Good image.
     With warm brown hair and snowflake wings, 
     With warm brown hair and paper wings, 
     I too will fly. I too will climb. ...:nice 

And, dear gravity, I’ll trust you to be there when I fall, with 
bandages and careful loving and blissful laughter for my soul. ....I like these lines, but I don't see how your fate will be different from that of Icarus, with whom you begin the strophe. There's nothing to suggest a different outcome other than the title. The internal logic of the poem falters here.

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First thread! :-)

I wrote this in April for Napowrimo, and have been editing it over and over since. I've looked it over and picked at words and tenses and punctuation so much that I almost can't look at it anymore. Any criticism of the title is also welcome. I have a terrible habit of just throwing a title at a poem afterwards. Thank you!