You could see that it wasn’t the kind of party for delivering heartfelt speeches or
creating intimacy. The guest of honor was having an intense collaboration with his hair.
Then we noticed the south wall was a garage door and the kitchen table a cable spool.
There was a map of Gettysburg in a spaghetti stain on the bed, which served as a sofa.
We were either delighted or desperate. They looked the same.
And why, in the middle of the festivities, did the guests draw an invisible circle
around themselves and separate, with their mouths still flopping like comic-book shoes?
Someone tried to cheer someone up by saying, “There’s always someone unhappy
somewhere.” Someone was not ashamed to be avoiding the obvious.
We all tried to visit the inside of our heads, but there wasn’t any celebration there
We weren’t very successful at gesticulating wildly to get the host’s attention. By
now we were as miserable as he was. We tried to draw new circles.
Someone knocked on the door and the host answered, saying, “Hello there, I
thought you were dead.”
And the new guest said, “What do you know about death?”
And the host said, “From the looks of my party, a great deal.”
And the guest said, “If that were really true, this might be a truly perceptive and
penetrating gathering.”
Then someone who was secretly attacked without warning tried to put on the dark
cloak the evening had been wearing. It fit poorly. A satire without any self-awareness.
When we no longer felt bad about what we would have missed had we not come, it
was time to go home. Then we could look safely back at this moment with longing.

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.