Contributors

Rosmarie Waldrop

Contributor History

From The Reproduction of Profiles, Conjunctions:7
Six Poems, Conjunctions:13
From Some Thing Black, Conjunctions:14
The Attraction of the Ground, Conjunctions:15
Five Poems, Conjunctions:20
Six Poems, Conjunctions:23
Table of the Matter, or, The Completely Lost Letters of Frédéric Chopin to His Friend Titus Wojciechowski, Conjunctions:23
Four Conversations, Conjunctions:30
Four Cornell Boxes, Conjunctions:33
Five Poems, Conjunctions:35
Hölderlin Hybrids: In Early November, Conjunctions:38
Five Poems, Online 12-17-2005
By the Waters of Babylon, Conjunctions:47
From All Electrons Are (Not) Alike, Online 10-22-2008
Third Person Singular, Online 01-11-2011
Otherwise Smooth, Conjunctions:59
The Almost Audible Passing of Time, Online 10-17-2017

Biography

Rosmarie Waldrop’s books of poetry include Driven to Abstraction, Curves to the Apple, Blindsight (all New Directions), Splitting Image (Zasterle), and Love, Like Pronouns (Omnidawn). Her collected essays, Dissonance (if you are interested), was published by University of Alabama Press in 2005.

Connect

In Print

Conjunctions:71

A Cabinet of Curiosity

Fall 2018
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

Wonders of the Invisible World

by Madeline Kearin

January 15, 2019

Outside the stars were fading and the sky was slowly rosying at the edges when we found the skeleton. At first it was visible only as a clutch of white daggers, thickly clotted with spiderwebs, compressed between the plaster wall and the heavy wooden timbers. I don’t know what I expected it to be.

Goat

by Eliezra Schaffzin

January 8, 2019

On the bus, we were told to remember everything, to testify, testify, testify. We’d heard this many times before. Remember and testify, they would say, in order that this or that bad thing does not happen again. I harbored no such faith in remembering. Nor in testimony. I fail to believe in them still.

The Bystander by Gina Berriault

by Mauro Javier Cárdenas

January 1, 2019

Someone shouted at me to grab a blanket or a coat or something for crissakes, the narrator of The Bystander says, and wrap your old man up, because after assaulting the woman the narrator’s father liked best, and after running out with nothing on but the soap from the bath he’d been taking with her, the narrator’s father is standing on the street, shouting imprecations at her,