The speaker begins with a puzzle: "my place is not a place." Home, here, isn't somewhere you can point to on a map. Yet the next line adds, almost calmly, "I have directions." So there is a way to get there, even if the destination isn't physical. The directions turn out to be an act of imagination: making "a blue room / in my mind."
The title, "Intronaut," seems to be a coined word suggesting someone who travels inward, the way an astronaut travels outward. That fits the poem's movement. The speaker isn't escaping to another location but building one, and hoping it leads somewhere higher: "an upper night."
The mood is quiet and hushed, with a gentle longing. Blue suggests calm, or perhaps sadness, and the phrase "in hopes" admits nothing is guaranteed. The speaker sounds like someone searching, patient and a little uncertain, for peace or wonder inside their own head.