Wednesday, May 8, 2013

The Loadstone

he Loadstone buried under the South West Quadrant of Washington Square, and how I dug it up one night in a dream and discovered a partial explanation of the Chess Circle

A slowly rotating afternoon . . .

Irrelevant postulations and dire jottings.
Aphasiatic conjectures under a lowering sky as the Poison* slowly wears off.

Circumnavigation of the Fountain in a time of utmost dread and dislocation.
Fountain-thoughts trail off with the spray . . .

Chess Quadrant as seen from a distance of approximately 30 yards—enveloped in a yellow-green haze of pollen and particulates . . .

South West Quadrant as fed by waves of Historical Discontent.
Fulminating bismuth and churning conjecture.
Masks catch fire and spin wildly.
Loud-Mouth Meridians as madmen scream obscenities all day and deep into the lantern night.
Molten jive and hairy palms.
Sulphuric Death\Chant
Threats and insults linger in the air long after their authors have departed.
Strident lectures aimed at no one and everyone.
Murder is in the air!
Criminal potentates incur infinitesimal advantages on checkered squares.

Clocks stopped at precise moments.
Small islands of Kindness and Peace amongst the raging battles.
Hot-spectrum experiments at End-of-the-World Park.
Third eye locked onto artificial satellite.
Pineal gland park-quiz.
The Great List of Atavistic Excuses.
Sleeping Souls of Old Telemetric Park.
The Periodic Table contaminated during a game of chance.
Dissolute Fountain/Miasma—falling off the edge of the Imploded Solar Calendar.
The Geometry of Despair and Dissolution.
Estranged in Echolalia
Stasis at the periphery . . .

Shadows grow longer across the Circle as the afternoon rotates out of existence at the behest of colossal and incomprehensible forces

Pulled over onto the cool end of the palette now as celestial forces exert their mighty influence. Park Circle and Fountain are pulled into impending darkness as they are whirled through time and space . . .

I walk dejectedly along one of the oblique meridians as I exit the Park and turn onto Serigraph Street where it merges with Inquisition  and head north to Little West Colloquy.
Then along the tracks that twist and turn and dive and rise again through dank and odious tunnels of electro-spark toxins and moldering dust and dirt—bursting to the surface once again, through the charred and rusted stations and soot-filled buildings of the Substrate City, and then down Subliminal Street and Arcane Avenue, towards Teleport and Scepter.

Posthumous longings in a bio-chamber of regret and bitterness.
Toxic delirium amid night-sweats and chem-soaked pillow.
Dreams colored in obscure hues and revelations in a vague language . . .

Under the sway of a murky and dreadful constellation, and oblivious of any moral codes, I re-enter the now-deserted park under the cover of night and pry loose several of the flagstones in the Chess Circle in the Southwest Quadrant and claw through the dirt and sand until I find a large stone of singular qualities buried in the exact center of the Circle: the Loadstone! Imported from Magnesia itself, and doubtless responsible for the frenzied aberrations of that charged quadrant! 

Hiding it under my shirt, I steal out of the park without bothering to cover up the evidence of my criminal excavations. As I move through the damp and yellow phosphor of the night-streets of Abscondia, I become aware that I am dreaming. Even so, I still feel a tremendous sense of guilt and fear of punishment.

*  *  *  *  *   *

Upon awakening I feel no less guilty and am troubled by a singular worry:
What if I am to be held accountable for my theft even though I merely dreamed it?

*Methylene Chloride

/// Washington Square Park /// lucid dreaming /// guilt ///


  1. This is impressive writing: an atmosphere conveyed by all its particulars; a dream oppressed with over-ripe meaning, awaiting the dreamer's moment to pluck, squeeze the juices, let ferment; then consume, to discover the translation.

  2. Thanks, Vincent—
    you know, the original title of this piece was "Revelations in a Vague Language"—for some reason I decided to change it to the more direct "The Loadstone". Perhaps I'll let it ferment (as you say) for awhile.
    Your comments are always greatly appreciated! Looking forward to your next post on your blog.