This was a bizarre and haunting walk through a nightmare, both beautiful and terrible.
Greenspan uses language like the notes of a theremin, carefully constructing sentences like a composer creates melodies. He uses phrases, that are at the same time laden with and devoid of meaning, to illicit visceral responses in their reader. Just as a composer uses wood, wind, brass and string to paint pictures in the minds of the listeners, using a language most cannot speak, but all can understand.
For those reading this, and trying to make rational sense of it, I think you may be missing the point. To me this is about the way these words make you feel, not what they literally mean. Allow the words to wash over you like music, and you will understand all you need to about what is being said.

I did enjoy the verse format and find this sort of poetry easier to grasp. The beginning of this started off fairly strongly. However as I went along, I'm not sure that anything was really coming together cohesively for me in any way. I wasn't finding any sort of story telling or particular emotion being evoked strongly. It read like a lot of embellished vocabulary.

DNF at 22%

I couldn't understand anything. The imagery was interesting, but the purpose or meaning was lost to me.

"Milk Sickness" consists of hypnotic fragments born from the depths of the author’s mind.

The work presents itself almost like a stream of memories—broken, fleeting, and reminiscent of melancholy dreams that linger just out of reach when you wake. What’s unusual about my experience with this collection is that I can’t point to a specific page or even a handful of lines that stood out as my absolute favorites. Instead, it feels as though the collection as a whole left its mark on me. It’s the kind of book that invites you to get lost in its flowing, stream-of-consciousness style, where the boundaries between thought, emotion, and memory dissolve.