it is dochs oars, sûnt 2001

The Lost Work

Last night in a dream—I wrote a Tolstoy epic—set in my time—
all the details—exact—just right. There was an entire chapter

about the dull sound of marbles rolling across the linoleum floor.
Then—the desire for water became a recurring theme which led

to some confusion about the sex scenes—many of which took place
in frothy hot tubs at a Motel 6 just outside of town. I had to

rewrite—forever—the part where Death showed up at the corner bar—
she finally wore a black satin gown—drank warm tap water from a goblet.

The protagonist’s devotion to aspirin did not go unnoticed—that—
along with his compulsion to frequently change the furnace filters.

When the terrorists arrived, they arrived unexpectedly—as expected—
yet—who would know they would wear the various faces of my cousins?

The epilogue ended up being far too long-much longer than the book itself—
which caused me—to remember—how much—I wanted to know the end.

Tim Nolan

[x]#1494 fan donderdag 27 oktober 2005 @ 15:53:44