guess nows as good a point as any to acknowledge our collective debt
to Jorge Luis Borges.
The Unknown could not exist without him. Were all still following the
paths laid through his many Labyrinths.
This, then, is the visible work of Menard, in chronological order (with no
omission other than a few vague sonnets of circumstance written for the
hospitable, or avid, album of Madame Henri Bachelier). I turn now to his
other work: the subterranean, the interminably heroic, the
peerless. Andsuch are the capacities of man!the unfinished!
Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote
at Mikes House
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