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this is the only documented example of a series of writings i did in the world instead of just in the word. i wrote a sermon on the double yellow lines of a country road; i wrote a poem on a sweetgum tree - a word on every leaf. i did lots of silly shiv like that. i wanted to see how writing in different ways and on different things affected what i wrote. solofable was done letter by letter with rubber stamps and touch up paint, so i had a lot of time to think about the next word, and to misspell the one at hand. this fable was not preconceived or written on paper first. i just got the stamps going and spent the day tediously pressing away. before the fable emerged i wrote randomly. the first part went like this:

i should start with something profoundly stupid
like the truth or like knowledge
or anything else that requires exclusion
in order to exist
in the minds and the hearts of men

the point is not to write well
but to write slow
to watch each letter steam
and to find the pace of meaning
in the late november southern cigaret

and also part of the point
is to stamp a story
onto the hood of my car
so as to be published all over town

a man borrows
his love for a woman
from a maple tree

the tree says

wear your love in spring
soft and green
wear your love in summer
as a dove in slumber
and in the fall
wear your love like nothing at all

and then the tree leans close and whispers

return your love to me next winter

the man nods
takes his new love
and returns home

the next morning he dons his love as a soft green hat
and he sets out in search of the woman
along the way he encounters the baker
to whom he tips his hat
and smiles so widely that the baker laughs
and hands him a free loaf of bread
the man thanks the baker and continues his search
eventually he finds the woman reading by the river
he sneaks up behind her
and without so much as a hello
declares his love so loudly that the frogs stop croaking
the woman looks up from the book and says

your love isnt yours
and its not for me
please leave the bread
and try again this summer

the man drops the bread
gets an axe
and goes to see the maple tree
its branches shake themselves in disapproval and say

meaning is mean
loves not in the head
why would you waste it all
on bakers bread

the man drops the axe
and chops off his left pinky toe
whiter than a saints ghost he hobbles home

when summer arrives the man feels relieved
he puts on a light linen suit
and walks towards town with his eyes closed
on the way he bumps into a curious young girl
she takes his hand and promises to lead the way
she keeps him from harm
until they reach the center of town
where they find the woman hard at work on the trading floor
sensing her presence
the man makes a quick calculation
and quietly professes his love
the woman does not hear
but turns just in time to see him
kissing a curious young girl
the woman wails

set sail you pale pervert

to no avail the man yells

its all a misunderstanding

and the woman throws
a thousand worthless stocks at him
the man hails a cab and hobbles into his house alone
to wait for the seasons to change

when the leaves start to turn
the man feels something fall to the bottom of himself
he cant get out of bed to get dressed
he has no appetite for food
only bourbon
and he cant rouse hymnself
to go in search of the woman
all he can do is drink and dream of her

just as he gives up hope
as the last leaf falls from the last tree
there is a knock on the door
and the woman
leans close to whisper

ill need some wood to stay warm this winter