Kirjahaku

C. Brooke Rothwell is a time machine doubling as a poet. He plays veiled behind the double-slit sciences of the traditional and the quantum. An unabashed everyman bursting with axiomatic stratagems that beg the head-scratching double take. Truisms embrace enigmas and the result is a love song. Have you seen the moon tonight? It's always full. Just ask the sun. "Now never stops" he said, says, or will say, and we are pleased to agree with him. Reading Rothwell is a liberating experience. It gives us a tight grip on nothing let alone a clenched fist. It helps to be aware of quantum mechanics, and it's useful to appreciate the hermeticists, but his playful nature allows us the freedom to breath far beyond these.

Fourth in the Anon Edition Rothwell run. "The result: extravagant, witty, surprising pages whose tales, images and asides-fed by the author's generous percipience-blossom in shifting, fragrant, fascinating cornucopias . . . " from the preface by Allan Graubard.

I would describe myself as a poetic philosopher. My formula for creation is that life has no opposite and can be realized in this lifetime. My prospect for the future is that nothing real can be threatened and that nothing unreal exists, as in the state of love, which is what we are.

THE YEAR WAS 2020 / People rioting against the indifference of murder / While the eagle was having its nails done / The flip-flop of flying fish on the deck of Rimbaud's drunken boat / Dizzy a flock of shadows chanting in rented tuxedos / Let's tap-dance to the striptease of a threshold / As the theater of war kneels before its bread of shame / She wears her mysteries of sleep like a Ferris wheel in the distance