This is the second edition of Equations by Adam Fieled (2018), originally released as a Blue & Yellow Dog print book in 2011, and employing "Dialectic Form."
#45 How Trish and I most go up is through words. Sometimes when we talk (often late at night, and when our bodies have spent themselves) we reach an elevated state of understanding; a sense of having transcended the shackles of normal consciousness. This is true intoxication, and cuts into us more (and with greater rapidity, satisfaction) than drugs do. We read through Donne‟s “The Ecstasy” and then bear it out in performative terms— eyes interlocked, extremities touching. We are both classicists and the notion of aligning ourselves with age-old wisdom arouses us. In our shared mythology, the American landscape does not exist— we do our dances with and obeisance to Albion, and our purer roots attach us to English thoughts, objects, senses of art‟s victory over materiality, war, and history. Trish has other dwelling spots— Renaissance Italy fascinates her. The humanism she espouses is Renaissance humanism; the nobility and expressiveness of the human form, its many contours and lights. As the years wear on, I realize that Trish is stuck in the mode of replication. She wants to compress the Renaissance into the twenty-first century. I leave the nineteenth century behind and initiate a quest for a contemporary muse, one that integrates rather than replicates. But our shared voyage through four or five centuries of high art is our greatest and most lasting shared accomplishment. 52
#46 Most of my key scenes with Trish play themselves out in West Philadelphia. It is a blasted landscape— filthy, litter-strewn streets, crime, poverty. But there is a pleasing rustic aspect to many of the houses; early twentieth-century built, ivy strewn. By the time we are in our thirties, Trish lives in an apartment building on 49th off of Baltimore. The roof is slanted, paved in black-top; and there is a fire escape attached to Trish‟s apartment where we can loaf. We still smoke pot in bits; we have maintained our physical relationship. Trish is bored; she wants some of the old drama back. As summer wears on, Trish comes to the conclusion that the finest tactic in her arsenal, where the reinvigoration of our relationship is concerned, is to break it off. She is assured that I will pursue her again with renewed passion. Meanwhile, the country has sunk into a collective depression. The cost of living skyrockets; people begin to use their credit cards for every purchase. My first books come out and are well-received; but poetry is a limited context, and the buffoonery of the Philly poetry scene is unsurpassed. All in all, this is a time of malaise and discontent; a time in which artists generally do not feel treasured or even valued. The national malaise is seeping into personal dramas; Trish and I are no exception. 53