from My Book of Poetry
In my detective novel, yes, the detective has a quirky handicap—he is a
ventriloquist’s dummy. For the first 200 pages he lies on the bottom of his
carrying case, waiting for the murderer to pick him up and confess his crimes
without moving his lips.
A lonely man walks along a dark street. Suddenly, there stands before him an
angel who says, “Pick up a stone, close your eyes, spin around three times, and
then throw the stone. It will land in front of the house of your future wife.” The
man does what he is told and throws the stone. It lands with a plop in the middle
of a large pond.
Ten possible titles for the previous story:
The Man Who Married a Pond
The Patron Saint of Losers
Hunting Down the Angel
Have You Considered the Priesthood?
The Merman’s Dilemma
Can You Help Me Get My Stone Back, Baby?
The Second Throw
Lameass Parable Blues
People Who Swim in Glass Ponds
Forgotten Nineteenth-Century Russian Microfiction
Consider all the things you have never done in your life and never will. For
instance, you have never been a member of an all-girl band. Now find peace.