The New Mayor of Italian Stones


Sitting on my stove there is a stone in which there is an insect made of ice. Other
stones have other things in them. There are stone houses on the side of a mountain, very
old ones with lumps on their roofs like blue-gray ashes stuck to mounds of old tree sap.
There is a town in Nevada in which at night in one of the stone rooms a bald man is
bowing and bowing to the soft light, a greeting he repeats over and over he is so happy to
be there with the soft light on his head. In a valley in Italy many stones have gathered.
Someone wants to be mayor. He is giving a speech. He is condemning the old mayor for
stubbornness, for refusing to see what is making it difficult to live properly. He is saying
that the inside of the old mayor’s head is like a mule with three oars strapped to its back.
And he is saying, “Empty out your shoes. They are full of old addresses.” And he is
describing a country in which new houses sit on the hillsides like fresh loaves of bread.

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.