Eat. The grand green absence speaks fondly of you. As do I. Skinny facts like you
don’t live long.
Listen, it’s okay, you’re already sprouting. I can hear the long story stretching in
your mouth. You see, the village has a cow and three tall men to milk it. We don’t
All the wonderful emergencies left town on foot. How will they know the dark sky
is their home?
If your hunger is continuous, you must weave the lie back into the perfection of
innocence, which remains green and still talks about you as if you were a brother or a
carefully fulfilled kidnapping.
If the cow weren’t so long, the effort might actually encourage the evocative
grimace of empathy on the human’s face, where it belongs, but some less reluctant lies
prefer to provoke the truth and create a more disturbing balance of ransom notes and
In such a village you have to reach higher to achieve the necessary emptiness of
authentic air. The truth piles up so deep it’s difficult interpreting the dripping corners of
its earthen vessels. But this is a simple place and we do these things because birds exist,
because smoke is attached to the past, and because blankets are not really a form of
Enjoy yourself. Consume.
So inviting you might want to seek the image of your soul in it. So patient it
doesn’t even poke at you the way the ones who have merely witnessed it do. So peaceful
you can hear the oldest church sighing, the one without a minister or a table.
Go ahead, the innocents are waiting.
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.