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Before the insect entered the donkey’s ear, it bit the elderly caretaker and landed
briefly on the child’s sweat-stained undershirt.
Beautiful, seductive and hungry, the insect seemed fearless.
Amidst several mysterious, yet predictable cycles, the insect, like many of the
wealthy men of the fourteenth century, hunted for fulfillment in the blood and toil of the
The several small pieces of copper discovered in the bitten donkey’s feces had
nothing to do with the insect, but the poor old caretaker who owned the donkey did not
want to believe this. There had to be some advantage in his misfortunes. The man’s
children, who had discovered the copper, became known for making fine pottery textured
with tiny seeds.

Several centuries later, following a hint of interest from the new pope’s most
successful imposter, the fourteenth century returned from the textbooks to learn the
modern art of self-promotion. In this it was only modestly successful. Everyone believed
what the fourteenth century said, but no one cared.
The imposter turned out to be the author of an entomological textbook with an
inordinate fondness for copper jewelry.

Following the war to end all wars, beautiful, seductive and hungry entomological
obsessions began to influence modern peasants. The distant descendants of the
caretaker’s children welcomed them, but inside the modern donkey’s ear, something was
biting so gently it might have been a breeze from the future.
The fourteenth century, carrying a gratuitous selection of copper-colored apologies
contained in several fine pieces of seed pottery, paused to reflect upon entry into the
chapel and entered the swimming pool instead, unaware that a current membership was
Modern children continued to grow agitated. Not even the modern donkey’s
ancient whisper could hold still. The problem, of course, continued to be fear, as it had
been for centuries, but the aging children, who had appeared one at a time without their
wigs, may have been the real imposters.

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.