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— Zachary Schomburg"When I was a boy, I choked on a piece of candy outside the kitchen window for a few minutes while watching my parents making dinner. I thought I was going to die, but I didn't want to scare them. Our existence was so separate, a dying and a doing well, an outside and an inside. Trey Moody's poems hover in that cold, wet, refrigerator-lit place between the dying and the doing well, the outside and the inside. His poems are the thoughts of the person you love who is always standing behind you, slowly and silently suffocating. But they're not afraid to say hello, and please, and I'm scared."
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Don't say "The last one there is a rotten egg": unless you're absolutely sure there's a slow kid behind you.
— Cynthia Lewis
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The final bridge to cross is to let go of the mind-created 'spiritual' self. Burn that bridge behind you. Stay empty of self-image and cease looking back. Remain in the neutrality of being. That's it!
— Mooji
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