Interpreters of the UFO phenomenon look to history. They look to Ezekiel’s wheel, to Sego Canyon, to Quetzelcoatl.  But they have been misinformed in their search.  [Redacted] has marked the occasion of the appearance of the alters upon the immolation of the men and women of the free spirit at Mainz, upon the Rhine, 1325. There is said to be lost documentation of their silvery and sudden appearance.  Was it the burning heretics that they meant to see? No, he shouts, quoting the elaborate Jacob Fuchs, the alters’ interest sustains whether a hybrid monstrosity, a camelopard, or a white elephant made the gaping people stare: they would look at them with full attention, not the burning stage, as a far more monstrous (and entertaining) sight.

Lest we think the alters pursued the event of their smoked ascendance as a seeking out of higher principles  among the subjected, we ought to remember their dumb nature. They might be said, at best, to have witnessed in the rapture the eventness that is their stifled ambition. And there are none more tiresome than those clerical priests who made of the theater of dumb self-regard a new object of worship (little is known, even among the initiated, of this cult, though it is said to have had its pale hand in the events at Loudun three centuries hence).

Cast whatever aspersions you like upon the heretics, the authorities, the alters, the witnesses; what matters is the product, advises [redacted]. On that afternoon, and in the preceding days, by means of a ruse, end regarded end. This is what is substantial. This is the node by which our compass is calibrated.

Through whispers of a point focalized, through triangulation of shadows, through a geometry familiar to the subtle bodied do the initiated discover the folds of end-meets-end across the ages.

(Asked whether such folds are not ubiquitous across time, [redacted] gives a hearty laugh.)


Coppe’s return . . . . . . . pseudo-Frederick . . . . . . . second law . . . . . . . guide to roping

at Mainz . . . . . . . horizons . . . . . . . at Banbury . . . . . . . Rabelais his mark . . . . . . . twice divested