Contributors

Cole Swensen

Contributor History

Seven Poems, Conjunctions:21
Two Poems, Conjunctions:24
For M. Moore, Conjunctions:29
Herisau: Four Poems, Online 03-16-1998
Such Rich Hour, Conjunctions:32
Seven Hands, Conjunctions:35
A Dialogue, Conjunctions:35
Four Poems, Conjunctions:40
Ghosts, Conjunctions:48
Besides, of Bedouins (Hotel Lautréamont, 1992), Conjunctions:49
Two Poems, Conjunctions:50
Five Ghost Poems, Conjunctions:53
On Walks: Rousseau, Conjunctions:56
Landscapes on a Train, Conjunctions:59
Night Walks, Conjunctions:61
On Walking On, Conjunctions:63 (63:95-101)
From Amitier, Conjunctions:66
Quartet, Conjunctions:68
George Shiras: The Heart Is the Dark, Conjunctions:72
A Play of Light on the Windowsill, Conjunctions:77
The Iris Migration and Other Poems, Conjunctions:79
Water Works, Conjunctions:80

Biography

Photograph © Anthony Hayward

Cole Swensen's latest books include a collection of poetry, Art in Time (Nightboat Books), and a volume of critical essays, Noise that Stays Noise (University of Michigan Press). She has won the Iowa Poetry Prize, the SF State Poetry Center Book Award, and the National Poetry Series and has been a finalist for the National Book Award. Also a translator, she divides her time between Paris and Providence, Rhode Island.

Connect

In Print

Conjunctions:82

Works & Days

Spring 2024
Bradford Morrow

Online

Confessions of a Thief

by Jeffery Renard Allen

April 24, 2024

The July morning was alive with a sound in the air, strange communications, the acoustics of the big yard amplifying each rustle, each wave. Odd creatures glittering on the ground. Herds spread lavishly, a wilderness of transparent wings, bug eyes, a mosaic of glassy fragments. Glinting. They covered the grass, the sidewalk, covered the branches of the trees.

One-Eyed Jack

by Rick Moody

April 17, 2024

The sound reverberated in my sense of what was right and reliable in the world like drone weaponry, and what I wanted to ask was: what business have you left undone, and did you do a thing you so regretted that you can’t let go of it, was there a person you cut off, when sympathy would have been the better gesture, was there a person you trod on to get ahead in your sales job, speaking ill of them, so that they were forever harmed, did you say something awful about a friend in school, did you call a friend the worst of names in middle school, because it was a thing they said then, the boys did that, only to find, later on, that you loved that boy in a way . . . .

Seven Poems

by Leah Flax Barber

April 10, 2024

I do not like old water.

The water in the ocean is old

The lake is old

But maybe it’s not

Subject to the logic of time, of old and new.

Water.