Poem By A. L. Breitling

Proteus the shape shifter,
in every way potential,
arose: broad shoulders, rounded breast,
divided between ocean and miasmal mist –
Qui est ni masculin;
Qui est ni feminin;
donc depourvu de conscience,
et depourvu de substance.
For the uroboric dragon cannot move
beyond the static, self-devouring dance.
I have trod through this long age
with fish beneath my feet
and stood amazed as anima
became harlotry on unswept streets.
But the uroboric dragon cannot move...
And in the darkness I perceived
the snake surround the egg.
I joined myself with my own shadow,
danced for warmth within the Chaos,
fed myself with my own seed
and watched as Day and Night divided.
Yet the duality of the vision – is illusion.
From the unity of myself, issued Creation.

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Other poems of BREITLING


What have you got there?
A spirograph on a globe and those lines
that aren’t quite so unintended or random
but you can’t see them in the mechanism,


With my heart in my hand,


Garden is not garden
or the farthest hedge,
or the tea-rose trellis
where the glass snake rests his head

To Beauty

Drink to me only with thine eyes
and leave the beer for yours truly.
I know it’s hard not to despise
this poetic ha and quite unruly


As she is, she is kept
under some cold illicit rock
where feminine and tension
coil together, compressing