Mon Frere

[rowens]

Mon Frere



I woke in the moon of sensation,
the sun dawned and the heat of compassion
smothered me till I rose in the air
of my mind—an illusion.
I walked to the moon; the sun
wrapped in my arms, I said nothing:
same as I've always said.

Her touch, a silhouette of difference
as pronounced as the sun during an eclipse.
A Double of fire castrating the wind
as if it were a storm petrified 
into flesh, an actress defined by her role.
And this reality, torn by catastrophe,
feeds and eats the mind like the sun and the moon.

Now I drink, like an ant eats
its kind, and party alone
as though I were twelve, me and my angel,
cracked between people on
the pantacle of this Earth, opposed
to any other. I lie in her bed
as she writes. She's Baudelaire.

[CRNDLSM]

Hey rowens, I know a lot of your work ties to other works or references them, but I've heard you say you also don't look back, like the poems are gone after you've written them, of all your styles I really appreciate when one of these poems roll around, can't explain it

[rowens]

I don't remember what I read which is why I fail tests. What I write and what I read go to the same dark place and mate.

When you are dozing off or waking up, you may have hypnagogic dreams, where seemingly alien images and voices are happening while you are pretty much in so-called waking consciousness.
Actually, you're dreaming all the time, and all that has passed through your senses and your rational network is churning and spewing. Some people experience that as psychoses or neuroses, I experience this as magic and poetry. What I know and what I don't know, Shining Ignorance, is spinning like a non-nazi swastika in a yin-yang, making obsessive links and re-links under the surface, until, plop, a poem comes. And I read it and re-cognize what everything means, then I post it, secure that everything is in A right place.

[Mark A Becker]

Hey rowens-

That first stanza is a great opening, and one of the best I've read from you in a while- an entire poem unto itself. Cool beans

Thanks,
Mark

[Bunx]

I love this poem and the reference to erotic poet. Your love is writing itself, a real artist. Awesome thoughts Rowens.

Rowens I know we have debated about mental health whatever before... I really appreciate you're opinions especially now in retrospect. Some of the stuff I witness and survived through dealing with my condition lately defied reality in the most detailed of ways.... It could or been an angel, of maybe you wished me luck or maybe my favorite friend on here "Ray".

Hope your doing well out there, stay safe.
Thanks for a good start to my day

[rowens]

Magic is freeflowing.
Yoga is All Responsible for All, Responsibility itself, beyond Response.
Magick is Personal responsibility. Poetry.

My Yoga is Conscientious. My Magick is dangerous.

My poetry is a prison, like Prometheus chained to the rock that is his story, his Art.

[Bunx]

It is so interesting reading poetry with that in mind. Appreciate you