MONOPOLE

We are the children of memory, which seems so unreal now, when childhood a distant dream. It’s hard to imagine you once were young, it’s hard to grasp all the ways your subconscious has endured. If you dig back hard enough, you can feel a child’s thought and the faint remnants with which it bore itself so deeply into you. You remember seeing the world through those eyes, knowing now you will never be a child again. That experience has shaped you, those eyes still your lenses,

From the novel Monopole. Teddy’s unconscious thoughts then wander, finding their way back to Sylvie, as his memory continues playing like an ongoing film from deep within his subconscious, distorted by his recollection and perspective. “So what’s the plan?” she asks him. “Well,” Teddy replies, “we’ll only need to motor out of the marina and then we should be able to catch the wind the rest of the way. The guy I talked to told me there’s a little beach island that nobody knows

Where then have all the beleaguered thoughts disappeared? They tarry into yesteryear. What state of such recompose has lingered in that going by? It’s one I swear I’ll never count again. But what then of the illusory non-matter that fills in all the strings and quarks luminating your personisphere? The dillydally you think of least is the act you most regret —that from which you most persevere. It’s a sobering thought to get along along, the thing you can’t remember if you ev

From Monopole [formerly Theodorus in Excelsis] An ever-fleeting storm dissipates beyond the deep horizon. She is best when she is less than serious, when she smiles like she did when she was just a girl. There it is. An honest smile. She looks back at me and is quickly to the water. Lime-green bikini disappears into the shallow of the sea. Will catch her. Sand wet now; more wet now than sand. Water at my knees. She swims. Know nothing other than her. Will catch her. However i