The Poetry Project


Mei-mei Berssenbrugge


She does not distinguish spirit from body, which interweave via the senses.

“It begins with wonder, then interest.”

The light of mind and sunlight entwine in your eye, though separately each is unseen, like starlight
without an object to fall on.

Deep space is black.

Inner life coalesces with daylight, a spectrum on which fluctuations of light from the
object stimulate sight, while you simultaneously enhance your reception, until finally you
see the ideal within the real.

Your consciousness lovingly assimilates new events to enhance cognition that ensouls

I present physical evidence where applicable, but my interest is in my informant and her

I learn more about that Eureka moment, when intense phenomenon becomes transparent
to the ideal.


Material and imaginary flow into each other through a crack of light, “observation,”
between worlds.

Juxtaposition becomes a blend of unconscious and external event; the more distant the
relation, the more emotional, poetic, the perception.

For my witness, bright physical light weakens the interpretive.

But there are two emanations, one from the eye, close to mind, and one from a star,
which conjoin.

A close encounter inscribes such diffuse, liminal boundaries of the imaginary.

Psyche becomes increasingly collective, as it assimilates with the gorgeous world.

It’s as if a star offered you the nourishing ineffable light of new realism between subject
and object.

That beings from outer space manifest to you physically is unproven in my field, but still

Each account is recorded as fact in my notebook.

Then I can travel up through light and become more intimate with its star.


I wake and see out the window a ball of light swirling above the trees.

A woman stands under the trees, where certain plants grow; she knots leaves into a
symbol using streamers of light, and as I watch, I know I’ll remember.

My window is the same as light going through it; luminous is a better word than

When I try to describe her, I draw a star; I saw stars like children’s stickers on the
window glass; I know if I draw one, I can go there.

Darkness is light’s resting state in deep space; transparence can occur all at once, the way
a face lights with understanding, or a wave passes you to Andromeda with the swiftness
of near and far at the same time.

Consciousness may be such a light source with metaphoric power; thread is a feeling of
spiritual connection, sunlight is love.

Language and energy interchange; we can experience a physical event by association,

A star visitor could be the attribute of such association.

Seeing starlight is seeing the visible in the invisible, that fragile imaginal cloth holding
planet and existence together.

When I ask if she’s literally an extraterrestrial or a metaphor from inner realms, she says
there’s no difference in significance.


Their skies are full of life.

She describes starlight as scalar, without properties of distance or time.

Any spirit in matter she calls star-walking: remote viewing, meditation, intuition, plants
she was shown, and any soul possessing a certain shine she calls starlight.

The power of relation came through their extraordinary yellow eyes, she tells me.

You’re looking into a star, convex, immense, flashing colors through opalescent, flowing
nuclear fusion.

I feel separated from home now; I look up at night with great longing.

They showed me earth through their eyes; their oneness extends to us.

Whereas, I’m in the dark; then it opens onto luminescence; there’s a lot of “snow”.

There’s a lot of stars, huge, no horizon and very bright.

I see the Pleiades; I feel like a wolf looking toward home.

Whew! a shooting star just dropped there onto snow, so I go over to it.

A crystal has dropped on the snow, and there’s light, a face in the stone; it’s as if I’m
looking up through the sky and things are very clear, and I’m coming up through the ice.

I’ve been below all this time, and now I see stars.

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