THE FLOWING LIGHT OF THE FILM'S END 6
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Our next Psycho-Cosmos class is Sunday March 30. We’ll discuss the natal chart and the (un)conscious. When you sign up, you’ll get the recordings of our first two classes, plus a google drive filled with cosmic and psychoanalytic reading materials.
I have 3 more eclipse season readings for this week as we head into the final Aries eclipse on March 29th.
*discount code at the bottom of this newsletter for paying subscribers, plus a link to a new dreamy Neptunian thing :))
It’s Sunday. So, a poem. I’m sending poems from a book I’ve been working on for some years, The Flowing Light of the Film’s End, to paying subscribers every Sunday. This is the sixth installment. I’ll do almost the whole book, plus process notes and random thoughts. More on the book’s genesis here.
This poem, which in the book, follows last week’s long and windy one, was written what feels like forever ago under the influence of alchemy, a Florida hotel, Wallace Stevens, Thomas Hardy, and some other things. Pelicans appear. In alchemy, the pelican was likened to the vessel. Alchemy is an originary dream language, a poetry where unlike things are linked. Containers, digestive heat, madness, experiment, more heat, beating wings. The sky feels fiery but slow this morning, with the sun caught between Venus and Mercury in Aries—both of them moving back toward water. And the moon’s in Capricorn nearing an opposition with Mars in its own womby sign of Cancer—like, you’re where I wish I was, wtf—far from home, where Mars has been swimming for what feels like forever. This Aries season brought to us by a war god searching for his mother, amniotic and memory-heavy. So many things going back for what they forgot or never had inside fire and water. Words on the tips of tongues and familiar faces we can’t quite place. Neptune’s still on the edge, at the final degree of Pisces, near the north node—an inflated, super-Neptune, a dream sequence of thresholds, exits, turnstiles, lobbies, foyers.
Ok, here’s today’s poem, and beneath it, a discount code and links—-