I retire to a grotto chiseled in a gnarled knot of stone on the continent's edge. The continent is irrelevant. And the stone and grotto, for that matter. Because when the ocean rises, no one moans but me. And the universe is nothing if not a bell for suffering. Ding dong, ding dong.
Mysterious but not at the same time, like a zen koan.
This reminds me somehow of http://sixminutestory.com/stories/newtons-shell-theorem
Veteran of the 90s zine revolution.
Spreading myself thin over blogs, Twitter, FB, etc.
Favorite authors include David Markson, Lydia Davis, Robertson Davies, Donald Barthelme and Richard Brautigan.