Sophie

03/14/17

I expect to get there before anyone.
I like the grievance process, but I don’t like to complain.
My underwear remind me of childhood, but they’re not singular.
I don’t like to argue about distribution. I just want an equitable memory.
Look at my new red satisfactions. I don’t want anyone to see me without them
anymore.

There’s a note on the refrigerator that says, “Harold is not the neighbor’s dog.”
The toilet bowl is clean and I don’t have any changes.
An airplane. I can hear it through the dryer vent. Which is wet.

A basket of polyester pinkie rings for the waiting salesmen. Single application
vaseline tubes. A carpet stain in the shape of an ordinary nose. Harold is not a salesman.

The holy days of Andy Devine. It must be Saturday morning. It must be a long
time ago. It must be a kind of torture.
The television asks if I have found Jesus.
So I turn it on.
The television works by turning the knobs with your fingers. Harold doesn’t.
An airplane caught in a pattern of airplanes. You’re not supposed to have to hear it
scream.

Sophie wants to know how I feel about the issues. I expect there’ll be a stain.

Harold draws a line on the chalkboard. I draw a line on the chalkboard. Sophie just
draws a line.
I cover it with vaseline. I begin listening for Jesus.
Sophie is participating in an exchange of uncertain possibilities.
I listen to her loud report.
I listen to another one.

There’s a note on the refrigerator that says, “Harold will not try to anticipate the
reactionaries.”
I listen to a voice repeating the ending.
Which allows it to continue.
Which makes it something other than the ending.


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.