Online Exclusives

05.22.18
You Don’t Have a Father and He Likes Cheese
A Selected Text from Conjunctions:70, Sanctuary: The Preservation Issue
Take him, Alma wrote almost ten years ago, when she was still a senior in high school and her English teacher, Mr. Poland, tried to teach her and her retrograde classmates how to craft compelling opening sentences for their college admissions essays [...]
05.15.18
Exposure
A Selected Text from Conjunctions:70, Sanctuary: The Preservation Issue
Punishment is a poor substitute for justice. When, after all, does punishment end? And what is punishment meant to do? [...]
05.08.18
Three Poems
You still eat roots the way each footstep
put together this hillside
as if it was once a pond and slowly

dried for the afternoon–a simple life [...]
05.04.18
An Interview
A Selected Text from Conjunctions:70, Sanctuary: The Preservation Issue
For writers: ask yourself how many invisible nonhuman actors and agents are required to enable your tale of individual self-realization or domestic drama, then make those hidden sponsors visible. For readers: let the beauty of whatever book you’ve just read teach you to read the world beyond what we human beings call the real world. [...]
05.04.18
An Introduction to Richard Powers’ Reading at Bard College
What an honor it is to welcome Richard Powers back to Bard College this afternoon after over a decade since he last read in the Innovative Contemporary Fiction Reading series. [...]
05.01.18
Three Poems
This is one, hoping to exist. This is one, holding out against zero: its reign of absence, its absolute winter.

Down for the count, which needs or does not need our factories of charge. [...]
04.24.18
By Another Route
One is haunted. Haunted, one must proceed nonetheless with the courtesy of a host. One assumes the ghost is lost and needs to be helped on its way. One sees things others do not see. Or rather, one sees things that others cannot see. [...]
04.17.18
Black Tongue
There was a socket in the wall my mother told me not to touch. The wire innards of the plug spilled out of the unguarded hole. The wires looked like black spaghetti. [...]
04.10.18
Doubts
“And you say they’ve been here how long?”

     “We don’t know exactly. Our estimate is a month, approximately. It’s difficult to be sure, we don’t keep tabs on our employees, so it could well be longer, a month and a few days, perhaps.” [...]
04.03.18
Walks Scribbled over Scribbled over Walks
Cold hole in my right pant
through which
                        grass’s eyelash brushes my calf,
                                                                
flirty infinite     [...]
03.27.18
Field Guide
Be the brown bear and the honeybee,
the finch and the squirrel

both too picky for this birdseed. [...]
03.20.18
Nonpsalms
You can’t live forever in fear   of language. Or well,
you can.
But it’s pathetic.   [...]
03.13.18
Three Poems
Come late spring the branches bear

creamy blooms then pulpy orange half-sweet

three- or four-stoned fruits that slip to the dirt

that all things living leave behind, dirt [...]
02.27.18
Five Poems
You dwell at green lights
longer than expected.
Thoughts that had gone far
are slow in returning. [...]
02.20.18
when it happens to you : little white commas
An Excerpt from My Red Heaven
The iridescent blue butterfly flits free of the airship and is catapulted high into the silver light by a rogue gust of wind. [...]
02.13.18
Seven Poems
From Suspension
call me   some never mind     precisely     little interest
off circulation     growing about the mouth         damp I [...]
01.30.18
A Coalescence
From that distance its rifts and fusions across a theater of inexplicable ages sown in [...]
01.23.18
Three Poems
All the fowl, land animals, and fish fear him.

Muslims assert that he had an infidel wife named Waila,
who died in the Deluge, and was thus not aboard the Ark. [...]
01.16.18
Three Poems
To sit with you
 among the starlings,
 yellow-eyed,  their
  paths hieroglyphic, and
 throw some crumbs our way. [...]
01.02.18
A Sickening, Bucolia
I left him in the wilderness, the scrag that’s left of wilderness—plastic bag choking the gatepost, Styrofoam snow in the farmyard. The wilderness drips down my legs. Mercury, moonlight, multinutrient fertilizer. What we pour on the land in nostalgia. [...]

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In Print

Vol. 70
Sanctuary: The Preservation Issue
Spring 2018
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

A Selected Text from Conjunctions:70, Sanctuary: The Preservation Issue
May 22, 2018
Take him, Alma wrote almost ten years ago, when she was still a senior in high school and her English teacher, Mr. Poland, tried to teach her and her retrograde classmates how to craft compelling opening sentences for their college admissions essays
A Selected Text from Conjunctions:70, Sanctuary: The Preservation Issue
May 15, 2018
Punishment is a poor substitute for justice. When, after all, does punishment end? And what is punishment meant to do?
May 8, 2018
You still eat roots the way each footstep
put together this hillside
as if it was once a pond and slowly

dried for the afternoon–a simple life
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