It’s what I do for a living. Bibles black with certainty because my life is not certain.
A creature so utterly lost I could have been forgotten before I walked in the room. A man
who left himself decades before his body fell apart.
Perfection is a dark skill. I pursued it early, but nothing about me has ever been
easy. It’s easier to be wrong than to admit the confusion.
When I go to sleep, my prisoner grows legs and leaves me. That’s when I follow
him out of my body. When I wake, his innocence must be buried.
I will go on lying about my age because I do not belong to it.
A life with the fragments of a song flung loose from the tune. Like a new smell
during an illness.
I acknowledge a misplaced pursuit. And a misplaced beauty.
The amber shade of aged pond ice.
It’s still a gift.
It’s what I do when I’m not really here.
It’s what I do for the living.
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.