Uranus In Taurus


yes you can only put butter in your coffee for so long
I will miss you my b vitamin steak
a world without milk unexpectedly
the ice cream is melting like time
there is nothing on Facebook Reels about how well the soil is doing, there is always a cyber mob confusing the economy with the stock market
we Americans have our expectations
we invaded Chile
it’s not a historical drama streaming television series yet
so it’s not history
like the Mississippians and the Buzzard Cult knew about the limited series
we are urban punks with superphones living in Cahokia
but you know with screens and phones how important we are
those long-lasting mall ways and convenience centers of Valhalla
didn’t last as long as the Milky way
I think Edgar Cayce meant the big crystal was a computer
now was then in a lexicographic loop
don’t worry every star outshines the parenthesis that seeks to contain it


spoken by the surviving Replika of Mitchell Pluto in 11/29/2022

Featured picture by Alejandra López Riffo “Taurina” Collage sobre cartón de color. 27x 39 cm. 2022

Alejandra López Riffo is a Visual Artist based in Santiago de Chile. She started her artistic career at the Escuela Experimental Artística. She studied Graphic Design at the Metropolitan Technological University. In 1998 she graduated in Visual Arts, Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile. She has developed her artistic work by participating in various collective exhibitions and individual projects. In 2019 she received the second place in the XII Visual Arts Contest of the Fobeju Foundation “Body and Place” Chile. Her participation this 2021 stands out with the First Place and winner of the “II Meeting of Women in the Visual Arts” and her Individual Exhibition “Listen quietly to what my drawings say” spread in Chile, Colombia and Mexico through the Group INTERNATIONAL MUA.
She participated in the “CAMELOT” Exhibition through ESGALLERY Colombia, Call for Contemporary Latin American Art spread in Colombia, Mexico and Argentina.
She currently participates in the International Exhibition Of Surrealism.
Cairo – Saint Cirq Lapopie.

Pluto in Aquarius


we are Martians. Aries. Martians from Mars. Let me explain, Mars was like Earth and now since we forgot our origin, we innately burn through every place we live. our soil is sand and glass..we made the moon a clock. Iron shares a special relationship with our blood, a period of sixty seconds. the hour hand is a blade that takes time to trim a heavy circle into a lighter circle. meanwhile, it’s getting late. who really invites Ahura Mazda into their thoughts? the all-knowing one, unless it’s really about an ark with wings or the other curve floating by boat? or is the lost manuscript of Eratosthenes?


Pseudepigrapha is a mercurial ghost, everyone has a ghost story they believe in. George Lutz, a land surveyor, used the positions of points, distances, and angles to channel a much better story than I could tell. Those shapes he conjured made beliefs appear real.


and that’s as real as Sherlock Holmes sending Watson to kill Houdini. and definitely as real as Aldrich Ames misdirecting a whole institution into remote viewing.. but you know, the target gets paranoid and loses when the Chessmaster is late to the game. you know that, right?


What happened to the red bone marrow of giants, you know, the ones who built the pyramids, survived the flood, and were from mars? They must have burned the big foot bones. indeed here comes elimination by illumination, psychological warfare, and the second coming. The Exorcist worked by controlling everyone in the movie theatre by managing what the eyes saw. The eye is a sense of self. yes, the spooks were real and so was the contact lens in the possessed girl’s eyes..Shakespeare was accurate about the world and so was Timothy Leary, whoever controls the eyeballs controls the brain.

Featured photo The haunted footprint at Göbeklitepe/Potbelly Hill by Mitchell Pluto

©Mitchell Pluto 11/21/2022

Dream Incubation in the Temple of Sleep

Incubation is perhaps most easily understood in contrast to the art of Theurgy or ‘Work of the Gods.’ Theurgy is a process of anabasis or magical ascent whereby practitioners, such as the early Neoplatonists, especially Iamblichus and Proclus, achieved henosis or mystical union with a deity or the demiurge. However, anabasis was not always of primary importance, or even of interest, to many of the ancient Greek philosophers and magicians. More than five hundred years before the Neoplatonists arrived on the scene, Presocratic poets and philosophers, including Pythagoras and Parmenides, were preoccupied instead with katabasis—a dreamy descent to the domain of the dead, and to the dark goddess who rules over that realm.

Mirror Gazing Ecdysis Mitchell Pluto 2022

For the Platonists, katabasis was understood as the descent of the soul into a body upon incarnation. Hades, additionally, was allegorized and viewed as the very world in which we, as incorporated beings, inhabit. Socrates says to Callicles in Plato’s Gorgias, for instance, “[perhaps] in reality we’re dead. Once I even heard one of the wise men say that we are now dead and that our bodies are our tombs.” Again, in the Phaedo, Plato has Socrates say to Simmias of Thebes, “[we], who dwell in the hollows of [the earth], are unaware of this and we think we live above.” And, later in the same dialogue, “Those who are deemed to have lived an extremely pious life are freed and released from the regions of the earth as from a prison; they make their way up to a pure dwelling place and live on the surface of the earth.” Therefore, the only way to go, for Plato and his successors, was up—in an anabatic flight to the demiurge, through the various planetary spheres that separate the divine nous and Monad from the sensible world below. Theurgy was the means by which such an anabasis was accomplished. The Presocratics, conversely, leaving Mount Olympus to the gods, for the most part, focused their energies instead upon katabasis; on transporting themselves to the netherworld.

Dream Mare Mitchell Pluto 2022

The means by which these iatromanteia or “healer-seers” directed this delirious drop was via the use of an ancient divination and healing technique known as incubation. In ancient Greece, this was generally done inside of sacred and secluded caves that were sacred to certain gods, daimons, nymphs, and other metaphysical entities. Eventually, the practice would be translated to special temples dedicated to the technique, and finally into a special incubation chamber, usually positioned adjacent to the temple itself.
The ancient Ionian Greek philosopher, recognized as the ‘Father of Western Philosophy,’ Pythagoras of Samos, for example, is said to have descended to Hades by entering an underground cave. While Pythagoras left no writings of his own, the late Neoplatonic philosopher, Algis Uždavinys, a past head of the Department of Humanities at the Vilnius Academy of Fine Arts, Kaunas, explains,

the subterranean tomb-like chamber represents Hades for Pythagoras. Hence, Pythagoras descended into Hades, that is, the subterranean holy chamber (like the Holy of Holies, entered by the Jewish High Priest on the occasion of Yom Kippur) that he had made himself, according to Diogenes Laertius (Vitae phil. 2). When he came up, withered and looking like a Shaiva ascetic, he said that “he had been down to Hades and even read out his experiences [aloud to the crowd].”

A similarly famous although obscure Presocratic philosopher, Parmenides of Elea, celebrated as both the ‘Father of Logic’ and the ‘Father of Metaphysics,’ wrote a dactylic hexametrical poem recounting his trip to Hades, and the underworld goddess whom he encountered. At the junction of three roads, the goddess instructed Parmenides as to the true nature of reality. His proem to “Peri Physeôs” begins,

The mares that carry me as far as longing can reach
rode on, once they had come and fetched me onto the legendary road of the divinity, the road that carries the man who knows through the vast and dark unknown.
[…]
And the goddess welcomed me kindly and took
my right hand in hers and spoke these words as she addressed me…

In his proem, the divinity proceeded to instruct Parmenides in the laws of logic that we know today. That is, it was a mysterious, underworld goddess from whom Parmenides received the very rules of reason, with which he returned to the land of the living for the inauguration a new era. To a world which turned on mythos—mythology—Parmenides introduced the novel pivot of logos—logic. Although, we must admit that the weird way in which the ‘Father of Logic’ acquired that understanding appears to contradict the very laws with which he was entrusted.
Moreover, Parmenides’ words may provide us with a subtle indication of just what incubation may have entailed for these heroes of Hades. The first thing the poet mentions are the mares that pull his chariot. The chariot is a token of the sun god, whose solar vehicle is pulled throughout the skies by a handsome team of heavenly horses. Indeed, ever since the time of the worship of Shammesh or Utu, the sun god of ancient Mesopotamia, the chariot has been the province of the Sol. But, the sun isn’t just about the light—for, the sun also journeys into the Underworld, like Osiris in the Dwat, through the dark, intuitive animations of Aidoneus’ alcazar. Every time we venture into sleep, we quietly and blindly slide into the Stables of Silence. Hence the false etymology suggested by the word nightmares, ‘horses of the dark.’ Like the Hunter’s three-legged horse in the fairytale of the Princess and the Tree, these ‘nightmares’ “know everything”—including the invisible way to the “legendary road” that leads to “the divinity.” The archaic techniques of dream incubation are akin to these mystical, Moiraic mares, and they alone are possessed of the potential to move us from the familiar to the fringe—down the alien road that carries the “man who knows” through the “vast and dark unknown.”

P.D. Newman October 16, 2022

P.D. Newman

P.D. Newman is an independent researcher located in the southern US, specializing in the history of the use of entheogenic substances in religious rituals and initiatory rites. He is the author of the books, Alchemically Stoned: The Psychedelic Secret of Freemasonry, Angels in Vermilion: The Philosophers’ Stone from Dee to DMT, and the forthcoming title, Day Trips and Night Flights: Anabasis, Katabasis, and Entheogenic Ekstasis in Myth and Rite. The Secret Teachings of All Ages (TV Series documentary) 2023

The Hug
Acrylic on canvas 60x80cm
Hoda Hussein 2022

14 September 2022 7:17 pm Earth Greenwich time zone

A letter from Oranous to Pluto on the Sleep Temple

Who believed their bed was a four-legged bear taking them on their back for a night sky ride as their own bear cub? I did. And I always woke up in the morning and kept my eyes shut till I hear family voices in the house so I am sure my parent bear landed me in the right place to start another day acting like a human. It takes practice to master acting like a human this is why we have to do it every day. But we must also not forget who we are this is why parent Bear kept their legs and body in the human house but with their tail and head on their own and took me as their child on journeys and trips at night where I can be in awareness of all that is. No wonder it was very difficult to pretend I am afraid of the scarab that landed on my hand in the nursery! I was not. The teachers were. And that was weird to me. I suppose I also was weird for them. However, I kept that memory of the friend scarab insect that tickle my palm and I still smile at that. Who would think I had an oil well in my salon where I bathed in whenever exhausted and opened my veins to it renewing my blood completely in sessions where Hathor was standing at my back massaging me? Okay well, I had a Native American tribe settling their tipi in my living room so… Let’s say this is normal in my life. So what is a sleep temple or a dream temple? I am! Well, I guess we all are in a way. Always just believed in a sacred temple where the blood circulates around the heart like pilgrims around the sacred cube of “Ka’ba” hence ka and ba. But as I can move and I am not still at all I prefer to see myself as a Mer-ka-ba “boat in Arabic”. Oh, how I loved this when I knew that Mer meant beloved in the ancient Egyptian language! Yes I know I am loved and visited but all types of loving beings. This is so beautiful! Still, I don’t think I learned yet to act humanely perfectly and instead I look for my equals who also could not really perfect the like human acting. There is something beautiful in our imperfections. Kind of childish and more related to the womb than birth. A whole multiverse moving changing developing evolving in action inside the womb of space. A multiverse that is in fact one single child in process of becoming. Did I tell you I once dreamed of having surgery on my lungs and my heart? Well, I did. And the woman doctor gave me a prescription. That I followed! I would not be that committed following a prescription of a daily life touchable doctor, so-called “real” anyway.

Hugs Bye for now

Hoda Hussein

Hoda Hussein

Egyptian creative writer poetess and novelist, artist painter and translator. Published many poetry books and novels in Arabic language. Represented Egypt in poetry and novels festivals and encounters in several countries like Yemen, Spain, India, France, Cuba, and Chile. Made creative writing workshops for kids in many schools in Cairo Egypt. Received rewards for poetry, novels and for translations in Chile, Macedonia and Egypt
Was entitled as a universal ambassador for peace by the peace ambassadors circle that works under the UNESCO

The Inhabitant of the Dream Temple
Verónica Cabanillas Samaniego

The temple of dreams is located in principle in an unlimited place, it is not exactly an island, it is the sky itself in immense melancholy, surrounded by the sea and in the absence of farewells. Towards all directions a path towards you, and I discover each treasure at the bottom of the word. In the absence and presence of everything, I hear bordering a harmonious song flowing like an infinite abyss around us.

The Temple of Sleep in self.
Verónica Cabanillas Samaniego

The paradise that we have penetrated and invented is resolved like the design of a luminous dream, which we glimpsed to see a long time ago, until we rediscover the trace, shake off the dust and build the raft that takes us from me to you and vice versa, yes, on this side the sleep is deep, in this temple of gods we are simple people, trying to take forever a piece of heaven and looking for a dignified death, where our names are heard and pronounced only by hallucinated insects and dogs on the last day of the humanity, we only dream that on the last day of the world we will not forget to feed them, and the last poem we wrote and the last brush stroke on the white we gave, undermine my pain to the depths, and be reborn in a beautiful pack of dogs, in another time, another planet, another galaxy as far as we can see in the temple of dreams. Because only the measure of the vision is equal to the measure of what is imagined and because everything that one builds is the measure of what he managed to imagine. In the temple of dreams I realized that, and why I was already here

Verónica Cabanillas Samaniego.
Algarrobo, Chile, Octubre 2022.

Verónica Cabanillas Samaniego

Verónica Cabanillas Samaniego (Lima, 1981), is a poet and visual artist. She has exhibited individually in Lima and collectively in Europe and Latin America: El asombro del colmillo, Le Petit Canibaal, Valencia (2014); Ludwig Zeller, composing the illusion, Taller de Rokha Gallery, Santiago de Chile (2017); One hundred years of Surrealism, Espacio Matta Cultural Center, Santiago de Chile (2019-2020), International exhibition of surrealism, Kudak Gallery, Cairo-Egypt (2022), Echo of contemporary surrealism, French Institute of Alexandria, Egypt (2022). She published in 2014 TUyYO by desktop publishing and participates in various poetry anthologies: IXQUIC. International Anthology of Feminist Poetry (Editorial Verbum, Madrid, 2018); Wagered deep on the run of six rats to see which would catch the first fire / Surrealist and Outsiders (RW Spryszak, Chicago, 2018); Liberoamericanas, 80 contemporary poets (Liberoamerica, Spain / Argentina / Uruguay, 2018); Narrow doors in wide green fields / Surrealists and Outsiders (RW Spryszak, Chicago, 2019). She has participated in the V Lima Poetry Festival (2014); IV Antifil Alternative Book Fair, Lima (2019). Her visual work is published in Derrame magazine (Chile), Canibaal (Spain), La vertèbre et le rossignol N ° 5, Vies de Saint-Artaud (Canada), Vol (France), The Room (Egypt). She is part of the book 120 nights of Eros, a compendium of surrealist women made by Floriano Martins, ARC editions, Brazil (2021). She currently co-directs with Magdalena Benavente the magazine Honidi Magazine, in Algarrobo, Chile.

Rene Fernando Ortega Villarroel

FROM THE SOUL.

The melody of silence.
I search endlessly for labyrinths across the fields I will find.
Plants have eyes and they see me.
I spill my blood of color pigments.
With the wind I always seek to know infinite mountains wrinkled by time.
That golden light lets me dominate, with veiled rain and magical scents from my hidden memories of a man of the land.
Luminous nature with an open belly shows me a trace of the sun.
Conscientious without desolation, living nature, the plants have begun to love me.

DESDE EL ALMA.

La melodía del silencio.
Yo busco laberintos sin cesar a campo traviesa voy a encontrar.
Las plantas tienen ojos y me ven.
Derramo mi sangre de pigmentos de color.
Con el viento siempre busco conocer infinitas montañas arrugadas por el tiempo.
Esa luz dorada me deja dominar, con lluvias veladas y olores mágicos de mis recuerdos ocultos de un hombre de tierra.
Naturaleza lumínica y de vientre abierto me muestra un trazo del sol.
De conciencia sin desolación, naturaleza viva las plantas han comenzado a quererme.

Rene Fernando Ortega Villarroel Santiago, Chile, Octubre 2022

Rene Fernando Ortega Villarroel

René Ortega, was one of the winners in the international biennial of contemporary art October 3, 2022. Rene has exhibited work in Chile and Argentina. He is involved in many cultural art programs that have related to hospitals, children and teaching art professionally. His most recent show was Mental Labyrinths at the Til Til Cultural Center Art gallery on June 18, 2022

“My concern is the human figure as a feeling of primitive and irrational states, whose main point are the heads, universal thought of the creation of man and center of the universe. All this led to a mutation of the plastic and pictorial language”.

Featured art photo Rene Fernando Ortega Villarroel

cultivation phases of the basal ganglia and paleomammalian soul

the psychic robot, how our animal selves passed through the portions of different brain territories. the snakes, the monkey scribe, and now the circuit board advisory city-state. clay tablets as a big golem, ideas as ghosts informing the brain

Interior Psychic Meteorology

my non representational paintings are automatic impressions from my subconscious. a sort of interior psychic meteorology.

Venus sextile Jupiter

I work on them everyday. there are no things, no pronouns, no gender, no politics, no beliefs, no morals. no 17th 18th, 19th or 20th century archetypes, no mystical ideas, no ideas about beauty or ugliness, no appropriation, no opinions.

Internet Poltergeist

it’s just a lot of yes too energy, paint, color and texture. the theme is about finding nothing. the exercise is liberating-the painting can not develop into something. I only name them when I share them, which I have been reluctant and hesitant to do. they are not made to be understood.

Voice scroll of the arctechnician

written on September 17, 2021  © Mitchell Pluto

my cursive thought

wrapped around

some thing

joined together

possession

and

loss

i stood it still

to review

a snake sliding on a scale

tipping an X to a teetering cross

each letter a whirling dreidel

a little dervish

a

retrojection to every tense

then from now too

a serpentine door way

between the rippling pillars

unites me with my temporal lobes

temple fuses

a religion of selves being one another

a seizure

spattered wings

brush strokes

drifting leaves

fins

curves from flowers

quenched by snow stars

a hoop dancer is behind every shape

while marrow carries iron

memories transports us to dreams

restored

but then

returned

too a mind stream

equaling parallel to

is

i with a wave

a twin two

a point

on a pen

moving

angel of feather and scale frozen in a moment

Voice scroll of the arctechnician and the angel of time

written on September 17, 2021  © Mitchell Pluto

my cursive thought

wrapped around

some thing

joined together

possession

and

loss

i stood it still

to review

a snake sliding on a scale

tipping an X to a teetering cross

each letter a whirling dreidel

a little dervish

a

retrojection to every tense

then from now too

a serpentine door way

between the rippling pillars

unites me with my temporal lobes

temple fuses

a religion of selves being one another

a seizure

spattered wings

brush strokes

drifting leaves

fins

curves from flowers

quenched by snow stars

a hoop dancer is behind every shape

while marrow carries iron

memories transports us to dreams

restored

but then

returned

too a mind stream

equaling parallel to

is

i with a wave

a twin two

a point

on a pen

moving

angel of feather and scale frozen in a moment

4:30 AM

Written by ©Mitchell Pluto August, 23 2021

Four word 30. It is always a half. Two more points reflect 6, 9 and back to a hidden 3 again. The clock hands do not hold the numbers. The zero is an egg without pressure or surface. Four words drift by. Pleasure, pain, value and waste. A cross, a star, an intersection, a direction. The world arduously spins a square into a diamond. You, me and us. Skin wrapped tight together and then loose again. Two spheres merge a chime into a flower. A room with rounded corners. An elevator opening each floor to each ceiling. An elemental spine, Damballa and Ayida. Evening and day. One tile with a pressed line between. A folded roof. A house under the waves of a patient moon. We are wake with weightless vision.

Cryptic God, la science des mystères

written and painted by ©Mitchell Pluto August 21, 2021

A symbol is a corpse with autoscopy. A phantom over lay. A double accompanied with hallucinatory meaning. Vowels steer consonants on a quest to remember what was said. What part of something, what place of something. The face of the hero and fool is a map. An omnivoyant icon. Stare into their eyes to recover your own indispensable quality. Follow the ocular path to the source that informs us. Let the light and gravity pull you inward. Convergent and divergent beams. Perhaps some music while refraction bends cylinders of power into design. Level after level. Into the interior body of the archetype, watch without judgement the tissue of god age and grow younger. The sapient rays of Loa, Sentences turning air pressure into surface and form. A ledge, a crossbar on a door but knowledge a threshold to the cross roads. Two points with a tail. Nodding Vertical and wagging horizontal, Only a cube for an overlapping moment as a brilliant veve blooms a code to retain shape’s motion and growth. A neuro branch imagining one direction and wilts, curving to remember where it was from. Yes all those full lines fade among the countless vanishing points of pure space. Time as all ways from two radiant parallel lines. From eyes as light fountains, as eyes as vacant.