It was very nearly Zachary Schomburg Afternoon at the store today. I received copies of Mr. Schomburg's new Horse Less Press chapbook, Abraham Lincoln's Death Scene, and a startling box from Octopus Books (hi, Mathias!). To tell you the truth, I trembled when I opened it. I was frightened. I held my boxcutter and had to rehearse my approach two or three times before first slicing. I think some kind of cgi golden sunburst shot out of the box when its flaps came open. I heard a flourish and a harp and big drums, although there were no trumpet players or harpists or drummers in the store at the time. A man with a harmonica put down the used volume of Thomas Hardy's poems he'd been fingering and stepped to the desk and asked me, "What's in that box?"