The Suspect Was Observed Entering the Reservoir

01/16/17

They can’t get to you. A grebe here and there. Ducks gossiping everywhere. The
bright ping of an old man’s useless metal detector. All softened by the delicate warbling
scarf of a brooding heron.
I don’t want to be recognized as much as that, but I’ve learned that it’s necessary to
create a little relativity from time to time. It’s the only way to stay hidden.
The geese and muskrats aren’t very interesting, but their results matter. I don’t get
seen by the upper muckymucks. That’s the point.
I’m really a retiring creature. I’m not here much. Even when I’m here.
My mossy cheeks are no longer swollen. My tangled hair has fallen away. I’m
practicing a wet shuffle.
Don’t worry. I’m safe in your unintentional shelter.
But sometimes exceptionally delirious things are happening and I have to watch
out for that. I have to breathe. The fat-mouthed bass won’t notice, unless I’m looking
shiny or wounded. “Like a baby,” I want to say, but I don’t.
There really isn’t another one of my kind available anymore. I’m outmoded, but I
live in my old world. You can’t forget to take something like that with you.
Unfortunately, the newer migrants know this and that’s why they’ve filed the
complaint, but if they’re so busy suspecting, doesn’t that make them another kind of
suspect?

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.