Art of Waking

The Art Of Waking
“Describe the frantic air thrashing and flicking . . . the whistles and clicks of
birds and insects, the agaves and cacti . . . the granite, aggregates, shale, slate—
hold them in your palm close to your face, so close that when a breeze brushes
the pollens and dust from your hand into the air, they enter you through your
mouth, gritty and chalky . . . the smell of sweat mixing with it all; then you
will understand you are a filter. What enters is the finest stuff and it will mix
with you until histories and memories and form an intricate web from which
nothing is lost.” — from “Prelude”
“Jonah Bornstein stands half in, half out of the world, his poems crackling
with a physical tension, the way of things; his poems calling from some
place so deep you reach for him, or he for you, and your clasp is hot with
sorrow, joy, passion, and gratitude, that words save us again and again.”
–Sandra Scofield, National Book Award finalist