Adam Fieled (Plymouth Meeting, Pennsylvania, USA): "Repertoire"
In the repertoire or array of arts and tricks developed
by Mary in her childhood and adolescence, only an
onlooker with eagle eyes could distinguish what emerged
as, possibly, the most important one. Mary got off, as they
say, on swings back and forth on paradoxes and dichotomies.
My mind teetered through this terrain about her insides as I
chanted out, through gritted teeth, the abstruse formulas of
the Bringing Down the Light ritual I had thoughtfully included
in our luggage. Mary rocked back and forth on our adequate,
if not luxuriant, bed, here in this garret room on Saint Catherine
Street. She was distraught; naked but for her panties; we’d just
seen sights in the neighborhood she found harrowing, a barroom
brawl, the spilling of a pool of actual blood; we were alone in a
foreign country. It jumped up in my blood uncomfortably that Mary
was a sucker for the wasted elegance of a nice, cozy hospitalization.
In a foreign country no less, far from the usual support systems. So, I chanted,
accompanied it with the requisite hand and arm movements, as dictated
by the file I’d downloaded once I’d received the key from the Thelemic
Order of the Golden Dawn. How Mary learned, in an avatar-like way,
to tune in on raw energy frequences, rather than fixating on rituals
that had to focus on Jesus and the Bible, I don’t know. It was the sense,
as a girl, that the world inside her, starting with colors and forms, was
just too huge to be encompassed by any one belief or value system.
It was an intense desire for the polyglot fluency of a mind that could
find dichotomies to ride— flesh/spirit, abstinence/consummation—
anywhere. As Bringing Down the Light concluded, I noted that Mary
was healed. The raw energy frequency of the script saw us through—
I’d pulled up heads that Mary’s repertoire (heathen/believer) responded.
© Adam Fieled 2026
by Mary in her childhood and adolescence, only an
onlooker with eagle eyes could distinguish what emerged
as, possibly, the most important one. Mary got off, as they
say, on swings back and forth on paradoxes and dichotomies.
My mind teetered through this terrain about her insides as I
chanted out, through gritted teeth, the abstruse formulas of
the Bringing Down the Light ritual I had thoughtfully included
in our luggage. Mary rocked back and forth on our adequate,
if not luxuriant, bed, here in this garret room on Saint Catherine
Street. She was distraught; naked but for her panties; we’d just
seen sights in the neighborhood she found harrowing, a barroom
brawl, the spilling of a pool of actual blood; we were alone in a
foreign country. It jumped up in my blood uncomfortably that Mary
was a sucker for the wasted elegance of a nice, cozy hospitalization.
In a foreign country no less, far from the usual support systems. So, I chanted,
accompanied it with the requisite hand and arm movements, as dictated
by the file I’d downloaded once I’d received the key from the Thelemic
Order of the Golden Dawn. How Mary learned, in an avatar-like way,
to tune in on raw energy frequences, rather than fixating on rituals
that had to focus on Jesus and the Bible, I don’t know. It was the sense,
as a girl, that the world inside her, starting with colors and forms, was
just too huge to be encompassed by any one belief or value system.
It was an intense desire for the polyglot fluency of a mind that could
find dichotomies to ride— flesh/spirit, abstinence/consummation—
anywhere. As Bringing Down the Light concluded, I noted that Mary
was healed. The raw energy frequency of the script saw us through—
I’d pulled up heads that Mary’s repertoire (heathen/believer) responded.
© Adam Fieled 2026
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