Jul 19, 2012
I wanted to open my eyes as wide as I could and absorb these poems rather than read them. I wanted to sap their energy, but only the opposite happened. When I close this book, I exhale the same way I do when I pause a horror movie or use a save point in a survival game. It is a thankful one. But, the book still hasn’t released me.
The only kind of sleep I get is fake sleep. I am so fake tired all of the time. I can tell you only fake sleep too, and that you’re fake tired all of the time. I can tell that you can tell that I only fake sleep too, and that you know that I know that. I’m afraid we’ll never make it like this to any actual ending, that we’ll just keep on living forever after everyone gives up and goes home. You’re not my enemy I say as you fake sleep, but you are. - “The Fake Sleeping Scare”
This book tells me so many things, that I am so many things, that so many things are happening to me. I don’t know if I can take it all. I would put my hands over my eyes and think about all the things Schomburg can make me be. Like I was overwhelmed. Like I was astounded.
I wish I had some advice for you if you decide to bury yourself in this book like I did, but I don’t.
You open your mouth. A bright circle of countryside is out of it. - from “Miner Death”
Try to take this book in as wide as you can.