I Get Groceries

Schism Neuronics presents

On both occasions when I was allotted editorships during my shit run in lit, Mr. Miller’s work graced the incumbent slushpiles, one of which already had its roster full, and the next was just a eunuch-laden college journal, so I did him a favor in not responding, but I owe the man a salute, for he is doing the lord’s work with language, and I accept this book. It is in my gold pile.

- Sean Kilpatrick

RC Miller captures with relentless clarity the eternal nightmare of waking up in an infinite shopping mall. These dispatches from suburban hell are shunted and welded into brain-lines that circle, expand, and explode, before being re-inhaled and crystallised into stranger forms. I Get Groceries is the exit within a map, the trip within a fall. Take it wherever you go, whatever you buy, whatever buys you.

-Paul Curran

An active shooter inside a child’s brain. Dead fingers inside goat mailboxes. An autumn sonata in remembrance to fresh underwear. Garbage bags full of beautiful things. San Juan de la Cruz, with his bird’s foot and bowl of mystical blood, once wrote about the tree and the lightning. He also spent decades looking while the suitcases conclude and the deaf salad bowls lung toward pancreatic cancer and tooth reruns. Air fresheners everywhere. He said that the tree will always be enclosed in darkness. Occasionally the tree will be lit by lightning, by ILLUMINATION – but often, the tree meets total gloom. These poems, of gentle sadness, of power structures, of proper undertakers and clock strikes, are illumination. Poems that are, in the darkness, what you will remember, all lit up like silence in the snowy fields, like a dishonest life inside a modern world. RC Miller has written an astounding book.

-Shane Jesse Christmass