I began Sugar Break by Maged Zaher, knowing nothing about the author because I hadn’t read the back, I had simply grabbed a handful of chapbooks when the class had been at Ugly Duckling Presse together. After reading a few poems and continuing to the back of the book, I found that the author appears to be from Seattle. I regret to inform Seattle they can eat shit and quit starving people out.
I love this chap book because it explores all the feelings I find I love about recording artist FKA Twigs song “Water Me”. I feel thirsty for someone often even when in what others think are their “relationships” with me and wish for a long lost mutual admiration society I cannot ferret out. I am constantly in a desert of behind the glass looking at my own life. Maged’s line in his fifth poem of the book “we make skin to skin contact to impose our existence” comes off the page and lands on my brow, deciding to sit there on my forehead, for a few others to see sometimes, like red cheeks, making itself a pair with his line from one of his letters “I could be projecting how much I like you” because I insist on repeating my own stupidity every once in a while in failed attempts at keeping people around.
The part I found a little confusing was his second poem, about being queer and transgendered. This poem could sound offensive but I am not certain I know the context and I feel that it is a confused poem, I often know what it is to “feel mismatched desires” but again the context could be different. I also wondered in poem three why the book was written by a man, so I suppose those are some of my own feelings of identification or disidentification depending on the authors own actual orientation. I hate explaining myself and prefer to take people on a person to person basis, I have so many conservative people in my life, to admit I will pass when able is something I hate to bring up. I often get very annoying we approve seeming comments from some of the people as well when I am too obviously queer without talking about myself. I have a confusing sexuality, and I still date straight boys sometimes. I have no qualms with myself, but I owe the world nothing and only wish I was allowed moments of lasting courtship. I also wish for his male privilege, or percved privilege. I want to have my own power, I want to be the person in a relationship who has power, I want to be touched and unharmed.
I hate talking, I hate not talking, I hate hearing my own opinion rolling around in my head over and over so many times in a row with commentary, I am still right. I want a new opinion, I want a connection with nothing other than feelings and being told something I have no idea about. I want to know all new things, all useless information from someone else, electricity because our skin is touching. I want my matched up, all appropriate, got the things I'll work with, friendship to show up and just tell me things and make my own mind quiet down for awhile. They haven’t yet, so I’ll wait and long, just as this chapbook suggest the author has experienced. Looks like I have a comrade and we are all out there floating, and will be for a length of time unknown
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