Scary, No Scary (limited ed.)
by Zachary Schomburg
Hardcover/ 80p. / Poetry / $30.00
We are offering a very special foil-stamped hardcover publication of Scary, No Scary in a limited run of two hundred editions, signed and numbered by Schomburg himself. The textless dust jacket also features different artwork from the softcover version. Each copy comes with a fine letter pressed miniature broadside as well, courtesy of Brave Men Press, containing the title poem from the book. These hardcover packages will only be available directly from Black Ocean, and are being offered for $30 with free shipping. These are sure to sell out, so order your copy soon!
Voted one of the "9 Best Books from Small Publishers" in 2009
by The Huffington Post!
This follow-up to Zachary Schomburg’s acclaimed first collection of poems The Man Suit, is a book of skeleton gloves and skeleton keys—at once dark and playful. With loneliness and levity Schomburg takes the reader on a tour through a liminal world of dream-logic, informed by its own myth and folklore. Here there are new kinds of trees and new ways of naming the ages—jaguars and an abandoned hotel on the horizon. This book will crawl inside your chest and pump lava through your blood.
Praise for Scary, No Scary
"Schomburg is possibly the man who will save poetry for all of those readers who are about to give up on the genre. Scary No Scary is both funny and ridiculously original. A playful, mournful, and sometimes sweet collection full of fantastic images and odd dialogue."
—The Huffington Post
“Scary, No Scary navigates a post-apocalyptic dreadscape teeming with dazzling mutants—two-hearted wolves, bears with no legs—each poem a makeshift shack in a forest where ‘the trees / are blood-stained / and look like old / gigantic leg bones.’ Here, nature is a diffuse monster, eradicating all our human effort to unyoke ourselves from a horror to which we are woefully fused. Sight and blindness are permanently amalgamated, wed across taught lines that are ‘part-wolf / part farm-accident.’ The souls of these poems have been put into them backwards. They unapologetically wear their wings on their chest, and all your hungry reading will not ‘push / those wings / through / to the other side.’”