Contributors

Stephen O’Connor

Contributor History

Man in the Moon, Conjunctions:50
Disappearance and, Conjunctions:52
’Til There Was You, Conjunctions:55
’Til There Was You, Conjunctions:55 (mp3, 00:19:14)
I Would Never Do These Things, Conjunctions:58
Next to Nothing, Conjunctions:60
The Zip, Conjunctions:62
The End of the End of the World, Conjunctions:66
The End of the End of the World, Conjunctions:66 (mp3, 00:13:52)
Little Rooms, Conjunctions:69 (64–78)
Coyotes, Conjunctions:71

Biography

Photo © Anna Levine

Stephen O’Connor is the author of Thomas Jefferson Dreams of Sally Hemings (Viking), Here Comes Another Lesson (Free Press), Rescue (Harmony), Will My Name Be Shouted Out? (Simon & Schuster), and Orphan Trains: The Story of Charles Loring Brace and the Children He Saved and Failed (Houghton Mifflin). He teaches in the Sarah Lawrence MFA writing program.

Connect

In Print

Conjunctions:72

Nocturnals

Spring 2019
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

In the Next Night

A Selected Text from Conjunctions:72, Nocturnals

by Gillian Conoley

May 16, 2019

In agitation along sleep’s surface

dreams the monster, the angular, the slimy, the anything goes, the corpse

who strokes the tigers with rather weak jaws

in a jump cut, on an icy blue couch, red queen

on mute––

Three Poems

by Jun-long Lee

May 14, 2019

Though no one is watching, an opening in the hedges reveals a gap where entry is possible.
Inside, an entity multiplies, but how can I know this. The broodself is invisible and smells like
before, which is the only way to know that it happened. It crawls out in unknown ways on
unknown legs, identical because there is no other form or sound.

Walking in the Dark

A Selected Text from Conjunctions:72, Nocturnals

by Kathryn Davis

May 9, 2019

What they had in common was they were smokers; everyone was a smoker then. Those three, though, they smoked to live. Cigarettes! There the cigarette would be, raised to the lips. The lips opening, only a little. The smoke drifting across the roof of the mouth. The lungs filling—this is how they recognized one another, in the green sea, green as grass, by streams of water green as glass.