Covington Square Revisited

COVINGTON SQUARE REVISITED

“Covington Square was a place of
social worship . . . the square needs life,
we need the square.”
    --- Crowley, from “On the Square”

✤
The Poet Crowley had told us
of Covington Square---that place in the
‘cityscape,’ that ‘anthill’ gathering by day,
the place of ‘social worship,’ where he
knew the ‘structure’ gave some ‘relevance’
to an obviously ‘pretend. . . importance.’

We sat in our overstuffed chairs, fitted
with leather, the atmosphere filled with
the smoke of pipes and fat cigars, the
brandy in our glasses a red glow shining
in the light of the evening’s fire.
How disturbed we had felt---though well

hidden behind self-satisfied smirks and
cynical smiles. He spoke excitedly of
‘paper doll clothes’ and of all things---
something called ‘drag queen wigs.’
In covert glances we ask of each other
with silent lift of brows and wry grins:

Why does Crowley speak such strangeness?
We know him to be a poet, and a poet lives
on the edge of polite society. Yet we allow
him some grace,  for he is a ‘high-strung’ artist,
a good fellow all around if a bit odd at times.
Let us humor him for our own amusement.

Yet, a suspicion of betrayal was felt among us,
a sense that Crowley had suddenly come upon
our deepest secrets while stumbling around
in his dreamy world of ‘poetic license.’
Did he intend to put this scene in his verses?
So what! After all we knew ourselves as men of

importance, of business and weighty affairs,
men of integrity with the weight of the masses
on our shoulders. Yes, Crowley knew us well--- 
‘irreplaceable,’ and so, twas twice the terrible
shock when the poet told of people who
came to Covington Square by  the fall of night.
Where a measured propriety had reigned by day
came tales of dissipation, seduction, madness
and uncontrolled liberty. Crowley spoke
crazily of a spirit without a particular shape,
an atmosphere unlike that of daylight hours.
Nervous laughter emptied the room---leaving

behind noxious smoke and half-drained glasses;
Crowley’s story had unsettled us so we departed
to our own apartments to ponder his alien words.
I myself was caught up in the story of Crowley’s
square, and was much induced to visit the place,
despite my apprehension of such a delirious scene.

✤
As the evening crouched like a stalking beast
outside Covington’s iron  gate---I felt within me
a strange expectancy, almost dreading Crowley’s
tale was a fabrication, a hoax played upon the
imagination of his contented friends, and I would
not look upon the transformation of the square.

And yet they came in ones and twos---those
revelers who filled the square at night, wearing
masks and costumes of rare appearance---all
dancing and swirling in a savage display of life.
Yet, I noticed they neither touched nor spoke
with words to the other, only gesturing in some

unknown signs and symbols that escaped
without notice or genuine apprehension.
Then the masks came off and the most horrible
faces of men appeared . . . wretched, pale,
ghostly . . .  alive but hardly so . . . Hollow Men
as Elliot has proclaimed. Though vastly abased,

these same men sat around that evening’s fire,
enveloped in smoke and swaddled in drink,
who deemed Crowley’s tale an insane dream, and
left for places beyond the infection of his words.
I could not take this awful scene and fled to the
comfort of my familiar rooms where brandy gave

no solace to my agitated mind, nor my many
books---a sufficient answer, an explanation for
the specters I saw in the unkind light of Covington
Square. I went to my toilet to refresh myself---
only to find myself as I saw the others. I too
must be pitiful among the mass of important men.

✤
Yet, what must we learn from Crowley’s invented
dream, his compelling poem of Covington Square?
Are any of us able to defend ourselves against the
hypocrisy we may practice within our ‘social worship’?
We sense our feeble humanity, and yet the square
needs life. It may be time to leave the night, and

        enter humbly into the morning light.

 

Author's Note

One must read Crowley's poem, "On the Square" to get the meaning and reason for this poem. I was intrigued by "On the Square" and wanted to tie in with Crowley's work. His words were "go for it!" and so I did. It's long, but I hope it holds your attention.

Reviews

[Eilis]

I found this haunting, Tom. I mean, I know there are two sides to everything, but sometimes it’s easy to believe we can live separately from the things or ideas we find objectionable. But, the ideas here make me feel like you’re unraveling the ball of string that makes that neatness possible and exposing the truth that it’s all there together in one place.

I have caught myself with a little terror sometimes that I will discover everything I believe to be true about my life to be a lie. I’m not sure where that comes from, probably all the movies I watched growing up, ha. But it’s there, tickling the back of my mind.

I like the idea of confronting those things that seem unbelievable or outside the realm of desired experience. Sometimes not knowing (understanding) can be an excuse to believe something completely false.

There’s a lot of depth in these ideas. I know more than I’ve spoken to, but it’s thought provoking. Cool share, and even cooler it was inspired by someone else’s work here.

[kentuck14]

E
Thanks for the extensive thoughts shared about this piece. This poem seemed to burst upon my imagination like a flash of light. Tried to give it a Victorian, gothic feel.

Yes . . . we live within the context of both good and evil . . . and truth be told we ourselves are a container for such contradiction. Most of us like to think we are 'normal' . . . meaning we carry all the traits of worldly goodness and none of what we usually think of only in sociopaths. I guess the speaker finds this to be a difficult reality, even if it only lies dormant within our consciousness.
T

[barleygirl]

I bow down to you in humble admiration! This is a poem with much to say, all of it well-crafted in a startlingly fresh way. I admire you for picking a most unexpected point of view & fleshing it out with a strong sense of "attitude" to go along with your slight tirade. I am honored to be able to watch how this back-and-forth between you & Corey unfolded, starting with your review of his poem. Even seeing that, this is so unexpected & imaginative, mind-blowing reveal of how astute is your way of seeing & your ability to see from many directions (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[kentuck14]

Margie,
Much thanks for your kind and extensive review.
T

[John Alexander McFadyen]

This has classic tones of bygone days within the bowels of the financial district of the city were bankers and traders and speculators amass their riches and indulge but beneath the veneer is something unfulfilled that only letting go of the mask can satiate. This is a lovely descriptive piece that sets the scene so colourfully and in a voice of loss and regret and shame.

[kentuck14]

John,
Thanks for your comments. Yes . . . I did try to capture some of the style of late 19th and early 20th Century literary pieces . . . guys like H.G. Wells, Henry James, Oscar Wilde, etc.
T

[Chris Shaw]

I read Crowley and I have read you Tom and delighted to have done so. What I love most about this site is how inspirational some writers are and how they can encourage others with their writing. Writers are a funny bunch, not understood at all outside their own writers circles. People who aren't writers, do not get us. And yet here, maybe it is our own Covington Square, with its light and dark and everything inbetween.

Chris

[kentuck14]

Thanks Chris. Yes I wish there was more sharing of each other's work in this way. It would be interesting to see how Crowley's poem would be an inspiration for others.
T

[jacob erin-cilberto]

interesting story here which does complement "On the Square"--
be yourself, come and mingle...and poets are an odd lot...to most who don't understand what we do or why we do it...they say..." i don't get you."
i am reminded of our weekends in Missouri with the Heartland Writers Guild...the best weekend with other poets, novelists, agents, editors etc...all people who have to do with writing, who understand each other like normal people just can't in a million years...and think of my mom reading one of my books and then putting it down and saying "this is awful, i don't understand a word!"
but the hypocrisy may be that in some way we are an aloof bunch who don't want to relate...but stay on our cloud.
j.

[kentuck14]

J,
Thanks for the revue and the comments. Unfortunately, much of the world don't get us! Maybe we are on a cloud!!??
T

[Crowley]

Wow...one hell of a tribute to my little slice of life. I love that you found enough inspiration to write this and it is exactly on point. You know what I love? It’s people. I looove watching people. I wish I was as brave as many people I witness. And I wish that my writing was about something so specific. I am a big picture, small personal detail, emotional b***h of a writer and seldom come into a piece with anything but an opening line. On the square is something different, it is about my life, not on a square but the places where I visit friends. Friends from all walks of life. I love them dearly day or night, they make life worth living. So dear Tom, thank you for finding something in my writing that made you want to adventure. I am eternally grateful, and may just use this piece as inspiration to return to the square.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Crowley..it was really fun dissecting your "on the square" and then being able to read this creative reply of a poem from Tom.
inspiration oozes from the cups of those in the Cafe.
j.

[Crowley]

Thanks Jacob, Tom outdid himself. It was like a cross between The Breathing Method by Stephen King and The movie Eyes Wide Shut. Marvelous stuff, let’s all of you know I’m watching you...lol.

[Cherrie Palmer]

I truly love when we read a poem and it leads us to pen and paper (laptop). A regular two sided coin, where inspiration becomes a form of friendship bread.