The Preservation of Children
Do you live in an area where ideas are made into useful things? Perhaps you were
elected to fatherhood with a single vote, your lover leaking approval like a mound of
moist friendly earth. Perhaps you thought about the way the air touches you because it’s
there anyway and you appreciated that.
“I told you not to dance with ghosts,” you were rumored to have said.
As for me, I didn’t know what I was trying to do until my brother told me. He’s
older and he used to do it too.
Because everything you say means something, but most of the time you don’t know
what it is.
Have you ever felt like a redundant little anecdote? Laconic, bloodless, and verbose
all at once?
“I have to face myself to love them,” I thought, wondering which one of them
contained the real me.
Was he, too, guilty of a translucent youth?
An undulant, apoplectic serpent of a man opened that first can.
One wimpy scholar noted a contradiction and labeled the involvement
experimental. I went on without him.
Does your house have an entrance as functional as a can opener? Does your room
have a door on the lock? And where are the fuzzy-chinned adolescents capable of your
life so far?
“I warned you about her polished collapses,” the father said.
And the oyster caress of imaginary labia nominated the son. The first occurrence.
Occupation: whispering and licking.
The tumor carefully preserved in its removable sweater.
The odor impossible.
The very idea of the idea slightly sweet and cloying.
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.