Earthly Gods

I believe that this suggestion only comes once in Book 5 (translated by Munro):

146 Illud item non est ut possis credere, sedes
147 esse deum sanctas in mundi partibus ullis.
148 tenvis enim natura deum longeque remota
149 sensibus ab nostris animi vix mente videtur;

"This too you may not possibly believe, that the holy seats of the gods exist in any parts of the world: the fine nature of the gods far withdrawn from our senses is hardly seen by the thought of the mind..."

Just that much might paint a picture of the gods living in deep space, however...

150 quae quoniam manuum tactum suffugit et ictum,
151 tactile nil nobis quod sit contingere debet;
152 tangere enim non quit quod tangi non licet ipsum.

"...and since it has ever eluded the touch and stroke of the hands, it must touch nothing which is tangible for us; for that cannot touch which does not admit of being touched in turn."

Lucretius, as earlier Epicureans (I'll explain below and provide examples) ties in the notion that the "homes" of the gods are "untroubled", not by physical distance from weather and climate, but through physical disengagement from the bulky, terrestrial particles that comprise terrestrial matter. Epicurean authors always provide the analogy of the tiniest "mental particles".

I think the other stanzas reinforce this interpretation. In Book 2:

646 omnis enim per se divom natura necessest
647 inmortali aevo summa cum pace fruatur
648 semota ab nostris rebus seiunctaque longe;

"For the nature of gods must ever in itself of necessity enjoy immortality together with supreme of repose, far removed and withdrawn from our concerns...".

In this sense, I believe the "removal" of the gods refers to their disposition, not their location.

Here again, in Book 3:

18 ... sedesque quietae,
19 quas neque concutiunt venti nec nubila nimbis
20 aspergunt neque nix acri concreta pruina
21 cana cadens violat semperque innubilus aether
22 integit et large diffuso lumine ridet:

..."their tranquil abodes which neither winds do shake nor clouds drench with rains nor snow congealed by sharp frosts harms with hoary fall: an ever-cloudless ether overcanopies them, and they laugh with light shed largely round" (Ibid.).

I maintain, based on "On the Form of a God" by Dēmētrios of Lakonía, and from fragments by Apollodoros (the "Tyrant of the Garden") that the description of the "tranquil abodes" avoiding weathering by terrestrial forces is a description of the image of their homes in our mind. We would never imagine a perfect being to live in a dark tower, silhouetted by lightning, nor, likewise, imagine a flourishing humanoid in the deep, cold, dark, emptiness of the metakosmios.

Here's how I justify it in my paper:

Quote

Apollódōros the scholarch infers that “the dwellings” of the fearless gods, unruffled by ferocious winds and falling stars “have to be far away from the forces in our world” (Ibid., Col. 9). He stipulates that the security of these “locations” may not be preserved as a result of “distance” so much as a result of physical disengagement “from the hindering factors that clash against each other”. Epíkouros concurs that “it is possible for their nature to exist even with many troubles surrounding it” (On Piety, Col. 3.3-7). For “even if the things which generate” divine images were “as far away as anyone could wish”, the mundane images of people stored in memory would still combine with the preconception of “blessedness” and form the image of gods who “appear” to “transcend” any amount of “intervening distance” (Philódēmos, On Gods III, Col. 9). Memory, itself “transcends” the perils of our perishable plasma through a perpetual replenishment of minute, mental motes, “having changed each time for producing a thought” (On the Form of a God 12). Dēmḗtrios explains that “the memories people retain of” visual impressions were first “received as children” (Ibid., 11), and despite decades of disruption, those representations can be reproduced continuously. Through contemplation, a supplicant summons a memory of blessedness and transforms the mind into a holy menagerie, capable of hosting a variety of divine forms. After extensive consideration, Apollódōros concludes that the “dwellings” of “the gods” must be constructed “from some of their” own, finely-grained “elements”, repurposed through an act of contemplation (On Gods III, Col. 10).