ben brooks wrote a book called FENCES. fugue state press published it. james chapman (editor) mailed it to me recently. it is fucking righteous. i read it in like two hours. i couldnt stop. most important to me was my ability to concentrate on it. lately i have a bad attention span but this book booted that lack in the throat. FENCES contains some of the strongest lines i have read in a while. it’s not a book for someone looking for a traditional story or anything. it’s more like a somewhat-narrative poem. but for real, it’s so well done. you can feel the filth of solitude from the very beginning where the narrator is “in a hole” where “nicotine eyes” stare at him. the book then seems to progress by branching off endlessly into different tracts of hopeless love, self-hatred and general dismay. this book is the message left by a burning tree blowing ash against the side of a garage where inside a man huffs gas to feel like a king. the biggest success of this book to me was how disconnected it was while remaining engaging. fuck. good job ben. don’t kill yourself yet.