Nine years after the first surreal treasure of Fjords Vol. I, comes Schomburg's equally surreal (yet plaintive) follow-up. Will there be a Fjords Vol. III? With Schomburg's endless genius, I'm sure there will be. This set of paragraph size prose poems slip us (water slide style) into a theater of clouds, bears, trees, James Tate-like everymans, icebergs, and flashes of stunning nothingness. It's so fun to see where Schomburg takes us. It's always somewhere we've never been.
A return of Schomburg's deep dive into dreamworld and prose poetics. Micro wonders full of heart and strange tender bewilderment. My name may or may not be in the acknowledgements, and for that, I give this book six stars.
Fjords vol. 2 filled me with joy and dread. It is the type of scary, sometimes ridiculous—and always surprising—beautiful nonsense that makes sense. A wonder to experience—“I cried so hard, I became a horse."