Contract for a Small Dish of Seeds
One of the things the government doesn’t do for us is inspect the possibilities. Watch
for these anomalies in your research. Don’t expect the subject matter to alter to
accommodate the evasive theme.
How would you respond, for example, to an official who says; “Every day my
mother beats me with a long willow switch. I’m scared because I’ve begun to like it.”
Some of the neighbors, you conjecture, of the man who first had a special room for
sleeping, must have thought he was pretty smart. They might have thought he was very
sensitive and wanted to acknowledge his hidden depth, but he felt so deeply it made him
sick and he vomited his portable heart into the beggar’s hands. If it looked like a handful
of old coins, that was only because the beggar wanted to use his gift. He probably
understood the obligations.
In this way the beggar had already become a flower. You can’t fix a flower with old
coins. The beggar had to call his broker to verify the exact amount of the loss. That’s how
happy he thought he was. He wanted to know exactly how much his useless discovery
Although the government does not approve of a man who is begging in the street,
his research might be used for subtle improvements in the enduring strains of the
increasingly numerous transient flowers which now line our walkways and boulevards.
We should try to understand how such things come about if we want to apply ourselves.
And if a beggar already has something in his dish, which is not money, perhaps his
persistent need to bloom can be used to locate outside a special place for sleeping
available to nearly all of us. This is what flowers accept when they refuse government
assistance. They have nothing to offer but themselves. It’s an agreement. It’s a way of
carrying the ideas to other places. It’s a gesture you may not realize you have made when
you give alms thoughtlessly.
Sleep now, because the subject matter does not alter to accommodate the theme
and it’s how we understand the meaning of the exchange. The government makes many
mistakes and it does not know how to rest. If it sleeps, it will disappear. This is why we
must do its understanding for it.
Fiction. Modern Abstract Fables.
(First edition, hardcover with dustjacket, 524 pages, $36.50 USD.)
Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days draws from fairy tales, a condescending of a 1938 Social Studies reader for 6th grade, an 1890 handbook on marital compatibility, numerous annoying educational advancement studies, the myths and legends of third-world countries and minority peoples, pulp fiction, a history of carnival side shows, folktales, frequent conversations with Crows, Owls and a wide variety of underground inhabitants, insects and the people who collect them, Joseph Cornell, Günter Eich, Russell Edson, the French Surrealist poets, the Quay Brothers, letterpress printing, and the author’s inability to channel his imagination linearly.
Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.