The little screen illuminated my pillow in a pool of light. I knew it was wrong of me to set up the profiles, with names like “Shining Star” and “Dark Forest”, but I was feeling lonely and vindictive. My fingertips swiped across photos and words.
Dionysus In Digital
Surrender & let go. Do not Skip Ad. The ontological flood is here. Aperspectival madness and shamanic psychosis are all yours via this DEEPSnakes original.
An Oral History of the End of “Reality”
In a work that blurs the boundaries between futurism and very recent history, wild imagination and straightforward reportage, this piece takes us through the phases of tumultuous transformation in our present/future shock. Reality ain’t what it used to be. Enjoy the ride.
A collection of aphorisms by a contemporary adept of the form, these bite-size poems reflect on the nature of art, wisdom, love, technology, and spirituality through a modern and yet timeless lens.
Millionth Wave Futurism
A new series of gouache paintings that combine natural and geometric forms, exploring cycles of growth and momentum. Inspired by Tai Chi and the blossoming of flowers, these works manifest as the explosion of a geode or the life cycle of a bloom, driven by the commonality of momentum.
A Shake of Salt—Review of Plenum: The First Book of Deo
In Geoffreyjen Edwards’ science fiction novel Plenum: The First Book of Deo, the Prologue tells us that we are about to experience the first act of young “gender-neutral” Vanu Francoeur’s triple-volume story. Which is also the first act of a 15-volume …
Life Cycle of a Shadow
Properly speaking, shadows are not those places where the light is blocked. In the earliest reconstructed languages, those places have no names, though the proto-word for shadow does exist. Shadows were the beings that lived in those places of blocked light. Through the corruption of time, they have lent their name to their native homes, been subsumed by them, been forgotten.
Monsieur Flaubert Is Not a Writer
With his first book recently published, essayist, poet, and artist Brian George reflects on the bizarre and often humorous ways that great works of the past were received by their contemporary critics, and how changes in the cultural landscape over the last few centuries—but especially since his coming of age in the Boston poetry and punk scenes of the late 1970s—have profoundly altered the ways we read, receive, and understand new works.
Masks of Origin—an attempted Review
I opened Brian George’s physically beautiful Masks of Origin—adorned with three-and-a-fraction of his own electric geometric red-green gargoyles, to find myself “reading,” if one might call it that, the whole book nearly straight-through that day, and the next…
The Self, As Ensemble, The Prose, Like Jazz—On Albert Murray’s South to a Very Old Place
A paean to Albert Murray and his hybrid memoir/literary criticism masterpiece of 1971, South to a Very Old Place.
Your Box Problem
“Think outside the box,” they say. What if your box is doing the thinking? Where does your thinking end and your box begin? How many boxes does it take to screw in a light bulb? The answer may surprise you.
Being Touched by the Beyond
From my very childhood, I’ve always been curious, interested, in a quest to find out what actually life is. What, in fact, is death? Where do we humans come from, and where do we go after death? Or, why we humans are on earth at all, and then die?
Author Interview with Isobel Granby
“The Second” was written for a speculative fiction writing workshop and very last-minute in its original form. I did the plotting and world-building on the fly, and basically the original idea was “what if the protagonist were trying to save their friend from a duel?”
The Music of the Spheres, Again Audible
There are moments when the world comes suddenly to a stop, when the ground withdraws its support, when a schism opens, into which one may or may not fall. The world then employs its archaic sleight-of-hand to remove whatever faith you may have placed in this event. The structure of projection has barely missed a beat, but the schism in your psyche has not actually been sealed…
18 Notes on Space
What does Space mean to you? Do you have enough of it? Too little, too much? How do you make space… for Space? This piece was composed for an evening of Poetic Alchemy held in Boulder, Colorado, in the spring of 2019.
Tempo – A Technology to Slow Time
What if you could slow down time? In a distant, not-so-far-off future, humanity has gained the power to alter the localized flow of time at will, enabling new ways of experiencing the universe and operating in extreme environments. Here is an account of the scientific speculation that went into the concept of tempo control in my upcoming novel Plenum: The First Book of Deo.
Artist Interview with Deniz Ozan-George
Metapsychosis editor Mary Thaler interviewed Deniz Ozan-George, an artist based in Boston, Massachussetts. Though she’s recently completed one portrait, Deniz considers herself first and foremost an abstract painter, lyrical, and expressionist.
Author Interview with Susan Evans
Susan Evans’s poem “Lucy” appeared on Metapsychosis website in Autumn 2020. During the following winter, we exchanged emails in which Susan told me about her creative process, her sources of inspiration, and what her hopes for the coming year.
Projecting human capability and knowledge into the far future, provided we learn to manage our own planet, it seems possible that humans might learn how to modify stars in ways suited to their future needs. Why might one modify stars? I can think of a …
Artist Interview with Marjorie Kaye
An artist is actually creating a world rather than just a stationary object. The artist is sailing through universal winds and transmitting truth. It really depends on the artist as to how this truth manifests and is revealed.
Making Mystery: An Interview with Andrew Antoniou
Reminiscent of the work William Blake, Max Beckmann, and Hieronymus Bosch—to say nothing of the latter’s medieval predecessors, Antoniou’s images find their singularity in the exploration of the imaginal encounter, the sacred drama.
I Take That Back
It starts like this, the intercom buzzes. Nick, the reluctant pet cat, is faking obliviousness, turning around, padding over to the kitchen for a snack. His tail, way up in the air, offers me a clear view of his hypoallergenic pink behind—shorthand for open scorn. “Guess I’m getting it then,” I say, pushing back with my own attitude.
Seconds — those appointed to negotiate and if necessary fill in for the principal fighters in duels conducted by pilots of the Polarin Aerial Fleet — were allowed only one kind of interference: to try and talk combatants out of their folly, or to watch as time ran out and they went to their deaths. This was thought to be a way of reducing the number of frivolous challenges. It had had virtually no effect.
A New World (Poems and Photos)
Going inward / I see my grey sleek wolf’s belly / moving forward on long legs striding / free, clear, unassuming / my natural strength carrying me / into the clear space ahead.
The game gives us a satisfaction that life denies us.—Emanuel Lasker ∞ “Tea or coffee, Sir?” “Coffee. Black. No sugar.” I’m on the phone with a market researcher. I try to picture a pretty girl at the other end of the line, but it isn’t working. All I …
Medb: A Disappearance and Reappearance (excerpt)
I looked at him through the camera. “You have a secret.” His eyes widened. I continued. “It’s not something…bad…but you think it is…. Something about a confrontation with your father. And it has to do with…a female.”
Review: Medb, by Brigid Burke
Medb is a novel that draws the reader incrementally toward the mysteries of the human psyche, on its way touching on gender roles, the power of the occult, and the pathologization of difference. It’s a winding, inward journey that begins, fittingly, at …
Studium Spiritus Sancti
but i often underestimate my husband / for he pointed out that i actually said schizophrigid / i had a kitchen dresser which contained crockery i never used / over- solicitude is display mothering /
Repeaters of the String
Now is when you are alone, when you have nowhere to be, when promises to the world no longer apply. Nobody knows what happens now except you. This is your own personal history.
The Father Spirit
I walk casually through the kitchen, preparing a cup of tea, as my gaze is drawn to two photographs placed side by side. I am struck by the resemblance between my young son and deceased father…
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