...of a deserted island

I wander the island, inventing it. I make a sun for it, and trees - pines and birch and dogwood and firs - and cause the water to lap the pebbles of its abandoned shores. This, and more: I deposit shadows and dampness, spin webs, and scatter ruins. Yes: ruins. A mansion and guest cabins and boat houses and docks. Terraces, too, and bath houses and even an observation tower. All gutted and window busted and autographed and shat upon. I impose a hot midday silence, a profound and heavy stillness. But anything can happen.

[The Magic Poker, Coover, R.]