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from the lynx chronicles

eldon

There is a land way to the south and in another part of time, it says so in several of the books I am reading, the books lain their pages interleft with other papers, on the desks in my master's room. They speak of an antipodean otherworld, described in terms of glowering and sparkling it seems to me, the deep dark colors of freshly washed stones and yellow brick roads leading in every direction to locations nowhere seen heard or felt on the surface of the earth. It seems as I am reading that there my master has taken himself and my desires lean thereby southward my head bent over other books purporting to show in terms geographical the relation of this time and space to that, but here and now has always appeared my only existence and I find it difficult to imagine that other places thrive in their own dimensions apart from the dreams which take me nightly to others within myself.

(the lynx chronicles appears in ensemble antholozine v.1, nos. 1 and 2.)