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Conjunctions at the Brooklyn Book Festival
For free goodies & a smorgasbord of rare and new issues, see booth 228
Sunday, September 17, 2017
10:00 am – 6:00 pm EDT/GMT-4
Columbus Park, Brooklyn NY
 [Conjunctions at the Brooklyn Book Festival] Dangerous readers of NYC, Conjunctions can't wait to see you Sunday, September 17th, for the Brooklyn Book Festival!

Conjunctions will be at booth 228 in Columbus Park, outside Brooklyn Borough Hall, from 10:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m., tempting you with an array of free bookmarks, stickers, and magnets, not to mention a jaw-dropping selection of issues marked down to $5: collections of artist-writer collaborations, of Caribbean authors, of new-wave fabulism, of remade fairy tales, of dark comedy, of verbal architectures, and more.

Please come say hello, then pillage and plunder! We love to meet our authors' fans, and we'll be out rain or shine (but probably shine, we hear!). You can get there on the wings of literature, aka the A, C, F, R, 2, 3, 4, and 5 trains (track work allowing).

Contact: Micaela Morrissette, conjunctions@bard.edu, 845-758-7054

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In Print

Vol. 76
Fortieth Anniversary Issue
Spring 2021
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

October 20, 2021
Launch

codes, we stripped species,
            our insecure
hands of gloves
to crack the test           to our capitalizable
future. Pray
            for the multiverse I’m working on
at midnight.
October 13, 2021
Forgive us. We were waiting
here, in the thickening ice. We worked a long time. Now
we try to give what we found, a little basket
hiding behind each back, full of the young shoots.
They are so green. Mercifully green. We say so. Yes,
they are alive, we say. We, too. We are still sick.
October 6, 2021
Friday night, and you have done the unthinkable. You’ve taken your father’s Jackal Ghost bowling ball from its locked hard-shell case under your mother’s bed—the ball that looks like a purple and black version of the earth, a jackal’s head rising from the swirls—and gone to meet Teddy and Zeke and Evan and Marya, most importantly Marya, for a night of bowling, the game your dead father was obsessed with: the game that, according to your mother, ruins people.
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