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Toward a General Theory of Distance
by Lindsey Drager
When a library is emptied, the books are dispersed so that the gathering stands as simply a stage in their being.
07.29.14
Temporal Relocation
by Sarah Wang
Both sexes in the same body. It’s a dream.
07.22.14
Three-Part Invention
by Caleb Klaces
Above the pine trees leaning into the wet black bank, a zip moved up and down in the sky, as the treeline moved up and down, controlled by two eyes looking up and looking down through the window.
07.15.14
Underfed, Overgrown
by Sarah Alpert
This time last year, I called my doctor to tell her I was dying.
07.08.14
Two Poems
by Arielle Greenberg
I am from a big book with five books in it.
06.24.14
Death by Chocolate
by Matthew Gavin Frank
As Harvey stepped closer to the scene, he saw now that the fishermen’s raincoats were uniformly orange—and not yellow—and, as they surrounded the fallen beast like so many scattered searchlights, the smell of it, this close, shifted to something so deeply marine it smelled dark—mineshaft dark; the rotting corpses of countless failed canaries, the ones who got lost in the pitch; and something of burning tires.
06.17.14
Alphabet on Fire
by Christina Mengert
Signifying garlands     this zealous isle/
with love’s convention     overspread
06.03.14
The Mansion of Dreadful Night
by Giovanni De Feo
Designed by Fiorenzo Bencivenga in 1914, Il Maniero della Terribile Notte is an Italian board game of which only fifty copies were ever produced.
05.20.14
The Unbidden
by James Warner
Exhibit A in my campaign to save the heath—for now by having it declared a Site of Special Scientific Interest—is a slim hardback stolen from a local dealer in rare and unusual books.
05.13.14
Exile
by Ashley David, with video translation
Before it begins, we/ take everything that moves.
05.06.14
Four Poems
by Donna Stonecipher
They walked around in the foreign city looking for someplace to have dinner
04.29.14
From The Lacunae
by Daniel Nadler
What will you do with these pearls he has given you?
04.08.14
Three Stories
by Bruce Lawder
You have been offered a position at the office that violates your principles.
04.01.14
The Orchard
by Georges-Olivier Châteaureynaud, translated by Edward Gauvin
Day was waning, wind rippled the muddy puddles. For a long time, they stood shivering on the platform; then they filed past an officer who told each one where to go.
03.25.14
The Involuntary Sojourner: A Case Study
by S. P. Tenhoff
While much current research has centered on the challenges faced by international students, business people, and military personnel traveling abroad, relatively little has been written about the plight of involuntary sojourners, more commonly known as “in-between people,” after the name given by Takahashi in his (1996) landmark study of the subject.
03.18.14
It’s Not Exile If I Like It:
Odysseus Debates a Pig

by John D’Agata
Thank you for the wine, but I am not here to socialize, Circe. I am here looking for my men.
03.11.14
Room and Board
by Andrew Touhy
Not a little chilling that you come calling, Mr. Tohwey, tonight, the anniversary of Edgar Allan Poe’s untimely and suspicious death.
03.04.14
In This World Previous to Ours
by Marcella Durand
Divided as half of me is small and distant.
02.25.14
The BE/S
by Meredith Stricker
you are the secret/ pinned to a vortex
02.11.14
Hum
by Mark Dow [PDF]
Gray metal box in the sideyard rumbled low into the warm soft around it.
02.04.14
Diagnosis of a Troop Train
by Paul West
Think of kings. If they cannot impose themselves upon commoners, or just a few folk with almost comparable titles, they sink into an ooze of moldy celery and black bones, where, my dears, they do not belong.
01.28.14
Three Fragments from The Revolutionaries Try Again
by Mauro Javier Cardenas
The long hallway where the old and the infirm waited for the apostolic group, Leopoldo thinks, the long hallway like a passageway inside cloisters or convents where the old and the infirm waited for the apostolic group every Saturday from 3:00 to 6:00.
01.21.14
The Great Beyond, the Great Hereafter
by Emma Komlos-Hrobsky
The Andromeda galaxy ranks among the brightest Messier objects.
01.14.14
Topology of a Paranoid Critical Town
by Jenna Krumminga
The father goes to the daycare to recover his child. Time ceases to move when he enters the room, which has assumed a preposterous shape and size.
01.07.14
P R A C T I C E
by Laynie Browne
If you spend a quiet fortress in tears it may be necessary to spurn stillness.
12.24.13
Two Poems
by Kevin Phan
Elephant chest deep in the green-/ Gray swamp; sinking elephant// Escaping the charms of light.
12.10.13
Arguments from a Winter’s Walk
by Thomas Bernhard, translated by Adam Siegel
It was a terrible fear of others, you should know, that kept me from killing myself …
12.03.13
Rancho Brava
by Charles McLeod
From the man’s flume to either side of his mouth, all the way down to his jawline, the moustache, a bright silver, was two inches thick, the hairs long enough that one couldn’t see the man’s lips—either upper or lower—in the slightest.
11.25.13
Part I of Rancho Brava
by Charles McLeod
Under cover of this letter please find initial, selected results from GCD’s first Focus Group in Zone 5 (Southwest) for Product 1822J: Authentic Garden-fresh Salsa.
11.19.13
Cloud in Trousers
by Vladimir Mayakovsky, translated by Jonathan Brent and Lyudmila Sholokhova
Your thought,/ dreaming on a softened brain/ like a blown-up lackey on a greasy couch
11.12.13
Glaciation
by Gregory Howard
And yet on a northern railway line terminating at a certain coastal fishing village where a yearly festival is held in honor of the sea’s glaciation, unexplained derailments had suddenly increased, leading to pronounced injury and, in at least one case, death.
10.29.13
Fugue State
by Julia LoFaso
This morning I woke up and it was drizzling hard little needles onto the gray mud of our wasted fields and I thought that today I might finally do it.
10.22.13
Stranded at Alpha
by Brandon Krieg
A man does alpha/ exercises on his wolves
10.15.13
Three Stories
by Evelyn Hampton
It took Ruth a long time to begin seeing Julian. At first he didn’t have the shape of a man, but of the piles of furniture and clothes she’d see heaped beside the road.
10.08.13
The Orange Tree
by Dong Li
In a yellowed family photo there is an orange tree, leaves burned.
09.30.13
From Mandelstam Variations
by Ian Dreiblatt
meanwhile across the mimetic subdivide/ lights go green &/ a republic faintly/ discorporates
09.24.13
A Genealogy of Instinct
by Steve Barbaro
There were few realms in which he was a novice, that Saro, let alone the sphere of self-fashioning.
09.17.13
Three Poems
by Wendy Lotterman
My path is determined by invisible gold coins that rattle at the bottom of a moneybag until their volume becomes a ruby.
09.10.13
Interval
by Karla Kelsey
And so found myself to be the not-iris planted in the Mary Garden as in picture her eyes (forget-me-nots) her hair (maidenhair fern) her fingers fluttering as she speaks with her hands (potentilla).
09.03.13
Minstrel Passage
by Robert Antoni
Under cover of darkness, and not unlike a pirate heself, Mr. Stollmeyer eventually dared climb the Rosalind’s mainmast.
08.27.13
From Letters to Mao
by Jennifer S. Cheng
Dear Mao, I want to describe for you the feeling of sleep, as described by neuropsychologist Giulio Tononi, who uses words like oscillations and waves, while his patient is noted to gather the phrase the sea moving a boat.
08.13.13
Excerpts from the Glossary for A Practical History of Dr. Horatio Bergen’s Experiments in Time Travel
by James Brubaker
Absence of Time: For the purposes of this volume, references to an absence of time primarily address a subject’s lack of an internal perception module by which humans experience the passage of time.
07.30.13
Three Poems
by John Johnson
These are the days everyone talks about: pixilated skies,/ newness reinventing itself like an aura, each of us/ driving away.
07.09.13
Without a Body
by Kilby Smith-McGregor
(in which—sea monsters—and Ava’s wedding ring is returned to Jacob by a female police officer)
06.18.13
From Sea of Hooks
by Lindsay Hill
A strikingly lovely young woman was sitting alone at a table in Christopher’s section.
06.04.13
Two Poems
by Stuart Greenhouse
The cat who wore too many pajamas took a walk around the block, said/ I’d rather be in bed but the walk around the block takes me there.
05.21.13
Correspondence sans Violin
by Karen Lepri
dear a.,/ have you found them/ huddled in ash/ their fat leaves like parasols
04.23.13
Cathedra
by Derek Gromadzki
Murmur sift incomplete and sudden
04.09.13
Architectural Absence
by Monica Datta
Aedicule: A small shrine nominated, to the Académie Québécoise, in the category of official sacramental profanity.
03.26.13
What Is and What Could Be: Hank Mobley
by Aaron Gilbreath
When my coworker Robert heard that I was getting into jazz, he brought a CD into work for me.
03.12.13
Two Onesheets
by Brian Blanchfield
Br’er was a trouble word in early 1980s North Carolina.
03.05.13
Curriculum
by Sejal Shah
The map was printed on a handkerchief.
02.26.13
Four Phantom Limbs
by Margaret Queeney
It drags an unlined palm forward, clutching/ a way over ground by paper-smooth fingers.
02.19.13
Four Sonnets
by Jacques Roubaud, translated by Michael Reid Busk
With papers, crayons, ink, colors, with/ Signs then words
02.12.13
The Windows
by Paul Hoover
This is my entreaty and my first word.
02.05.13
Three Poems
by Eric Pankey
Stray frays of virga. In the wood grain: line graph of annual rainfall.
01.29.13
From Maps for Jackie
by Jason Labbe
days of rain project/ ennui in morning
01.22.13
Three Stories
by Kim Chinquee
She wears his socks and they pack the dogs and leashes, getting in his Jeep, the dogs in back with their heads out the window.
01.15.13
A Report on Certain Curious Objects, Believed to Be Words in an Unknown Language of the Dead
by Shelley Jackson
The headmistress of the Vocational School for Ghost Speakers & Hearing Mouth Children, in addition to turning out youthful amanuenses for the dead, developed a theory of what she called the necrocosmos.
01.08.13
Third Party
by Joanna Ruocco
The woman turned to lie on her side in the bed. Her body turned in bed, but she did not turn. She was looking at the ceiling.
12.18.12
Five Stories
by Rob Walsh
Women like drinks, so they say.
12.11.12
Three Poems
by Maxine Chernoff
There is a world in which the old tumult breathes its conclusions.
12.04.12
Three Poems
by Eric Linsker
The divisions are what we will do newly in this world
11.27.12
Three Poems
by Thea Brown
All stories begin with a doorbell
11.13.12
Guide to a Childhood Diversion
by Emma Smith-Stevens
This is a game for two sisters.
11.06.12
Shadow Boxes
by Rebecca Lilly
Day’s   whole transparency/a relief   the fine turning
10.30.12
An Introduction to James Gatrell’s Journals and Letters
by Lucas Southworth
A few days after James Gatrell turned sixty-five, his colleagues at Emory University threw him a retirement party.
10.23.12
Four Poems
by Tomaž Šalamun, translated by the author and Michael Thomas Taren
Discus hit in the golden field./ The tent endures downpours of wine.
10.16.12
Three Poems
by Adam Fitzgerald
Some peaches were gathered in your name
10.09.12
Four Poems
by Benjamin Landry
Chocolate wrapped in its foil/ Cadences of tinkers in the street.
09.25.12
Four Poems
by Jake Syersak
A coo is forming a dove from the open breast of zero
09.11.12
Three Poems
by Katharine Coles
A signal of danger has arrived in consciousness.
08.28.12
Five Poems
by Melissa Barrett
The curtain you noticed trembling, the whole// soft front of it
08.14.12
House of Halls
by Joe Aguilar
In the house of halls, there are no rooms, only corridors.
08.07.12
Three Poems
by Adam Fagin
If among the waxwing’s flight, I describe unbroken light, I describe water among the sleep of birds.
08.01.12
Three Poems
by Steve Barbaro
I like/ lakes; I like/ not quite/ evading modern/ places
07.17.12
From Drafts for Shelley
by Andrew Mossin
A figure in black at the beginning there is this one
07.10.12
this missnessing
by Eric Ellingsen
Hurt, the nickname of my friend, Mariada
07.03.12
Chupeta
by Noy Holland
He drove carelessly and the sun passing through the window looked to melt his hair to his head.
06.26.12
From Having and Space
by Thibault Raoult
Only so many times you can rotate, opt out of whippoorwill.
06.12.12
From Reveler
by Andrew Durbin
It is true my face beheld/ The crestfallen captcha/ That reads the end of the world
06.05.12
Three Poems
by Brian Henry
Who among us is alive
05.29.12
Three Poems
by Anne Marie Rooney
Can isolation make a person go blind. Go animal.
05.15.12
Rabbit Starvation
by Emily Anderson
Bunny was young. He had never even eaten this kind of cracker before.
05.08.12
The Raincoat
by Brent Cunningham
What sort of person was Peter Underwood?
04.17.12
Four Poems
by Ngoc Doan
scent that never leaves/ flesh/ is flesh
04.10.12
I, Inc.
by Brandon Krieg
I incorporate gneiss and coal and/ long-threaded moss
04.03.12
On Lust
by JoAnna Novak
I look in the morning/ having an upward aspect or direction, lamb: honorable, prideful, seeing with attention
03.27.12
Six Gymnopédies
by Scott Garson
We don’t live on the rise of an ancient volcano.
03.13.12
An Ailment That I Will Not Treat
by Ian Hatcher
the aurum eye morning decreases
03.06.12
Five Poems
by Sylvia Legris
Renounce the vestibule of non-vital vitals.
02.28.12
Years
by Matthew Roberson
This house had sheets in the closet, dishes in the cabinets.
02.21.12
Disfigurement
by Brandon Hobson
He was worried someone was following him.
02.07.12
Four Poems
by Brent Armendinger
After so many years of abbreviated sky, the new bird/ is cast from the bars of its former cage.
01.31.12
Sport
by Matthew Baker
Couldn’t have been as odd for anyone as it was for us, when Finland’s blood factories were shuttered.
01.24.12
Six Poems
by Marcia Arrieta
nebulous insurgent/ you dream your life/ into invariables
01.17.12
Two Poems
by Catherine Imbriglio
The trope of a tree, the trope of the land that looks out at the tree.
01.10.12
Ten Poems
by Matthew Gagnon
Stay inside the one enduring thing
01.03.12
Greyhounds
by Emma Smith-Stevens
When James bites his nails.
12.20.11
From Electric Light Parade
by Karen Lepri
STATISTICS. Age: 3 years. Season: Summer. Neck: Supple. Sensory Exam: No loss. Eyes: Pronounced.
12.13.11
A Good Name for an Animal
by Marianne Jay
I love a thief. No particular thief. I love a thief in general.
12.06.11
In These Times the Home Is a Tired Place
by Jessica Hollander
Only one dream the mother remembered: driving, dead bodies on the road, the word PAPER large and black on a billboard.
11.29.11
Ten Poems
by Kerry Banazek
Get in at the who’s-to-tells.
11.15.11
CONJUNCTIONS:57, KIN  :::
ONLINE-EXCLUSIVE SUPPLEMENT

Begins
by Gillian Conoley
begins with sound of bell
11.08.11
The Agnostic Grappler’s Itinerary
by Sean Casey
An entirely unfamiliar older gentleman drove me across a bare countryside.
11.01.11
Another Girl, Another Planet
by Luke Andrew Geddes
Sex in outer space is not that different.
10.25.11
The Hinge Trees
by Elizabeth Robinson
Here is where you were.
10.18.11
Five Poems
by Sarah Gridley
One helped undo the rippled look of things beyond the pane.
10.04.11
Nine Poems
by Emily Carr
Hollereyed the moon tries on gas station, soda machine, locked/ toilet, linedried bedsheets, a caterpillar fording yard dirt.
09.27.11
The Father and the Father
by Jeremy Adam Smith
We turned and we turned and as we turned my father became one of the void-eyed horses that never stopped galloping.
09.20.11
From The Victor Poems
by Anthony Caleshu
So long without women, we’re thinking of women.
09.13.11
One Hundred Characters
by Sam Allingham
Your brother, the first boy you ever kissed. Your sister, the first person your brother ever kissed. Your mother, who has never kissed anyone, to your knowledge, since the age of thirty-seven.
09.06.11
The French Knew How to Wave
by Diana Wagman
“I want a cigarette.” You must say this with a French accent.
08.30.11
Five Poems
by Steven Toussaint
ore poured/ through ode
07.19.11
Part II of Et In Acadiana Ego
by Valerie Martin
In the spring Mathilde received a card from Monsieur Delery, her favorite importer, who kept a shop on Rue Royale.
HEAR THE AUTHOR READ FROM THIS STORY
07.12.11
Part I of Et In Acadiana Ego
by Valerie Martin
When Father Desmond excommunicated Mathilde Benoit, denying her the benefit of the sacraments, he wrote an account of his complaint against her.
HEAR THE AUTHOR READ FROM THIS STORY
07.06.11
Two Poems
by Camille Guthrie
It makes a difference whether he is rosy-fingered/ or trigger-fingered.
06.28.11
The Commander Is Oppressed by His Tongues
by Michael Pearce
The commander visits his collection every day now.
06.21.11
Three Poems
by Gerard Malanga
He certainly wasn’t thinking “the emancipation of dissonance,”/ as Schöenberg put it, slouched as he was, rumpled tie and all
06.14.11
Players, Tawkers, Spawts
by John Domini
Listen, I’m not saying you don’t have a movie. Two girls and a guy and the Mars Rover, that’s a movie.
06.07.11
Last Year at Schlangenbad
by Joan Harvey
These trips that begin on airplanes and end on airplanes.
05.31.11
From The Kaleidoscopic Almanac and Seed Catalogue, with Notes
by Chris Hosea
Born to be. Under amplified sermons cliffs erode. All this they wrote out and folded before leaving.
HEAR CHRIS HOSEA READ FROM THIS AND OTHER WORK (KGB BAR, 10/13/2013)
05.25.11
Two Poems
by Lindsay Turner
Woke from not sleeping going through the words
05.18.11
Interview with Damon Galgut
by Kianoosh Hashemzadeh
Memoir, as it happens, is a very popular form in South Africa right now, especially because there’s this sense of unspoken history that’s being reclaimed at the moment.
05.10.11
Eleven Stories
by Osama Alomar, translated by the author and C. J. Collins
The candle was astounded to see the widow as she wept for her recently deceased husband.
05.03.11
Four Poems
by Malinda Markham
Bones wired for strength we are less gullible than a feast but more sturdy.
04.26.11
Crickets
by Ian Goodale
Her hands began to run limping crickets over the wounds of the body before her
04.10.11
Leisure
by Brian Conn
We are in a haunted house. Our first game is played with dice.
04.01.11
Three Stories
by Kim Chinquee
After weeks away, and days on the road, I scan my studio apartment.
03.25.11
Bite
by Kyle Winkler
Emily bit her baby. It started with the toes and the feet. The little pink baby feet.
03.18.11
News of the Fall of Troy
by G. C. Waldrep
(what is important is that history be/ silent     (for a moment
03.04.11
Two Poems
by Andrea Scott
Tree of the ampler frame./ Sky broken snow./ The arc falling./ Bone flutes. Filling up.
02.26.11
Cultivation
by Brooks Sterritt
The process begins with a five-gallon bucket, preferably blue.
02.18.11
Four Poems
by Matthew Gagnon
But it is nothing/ that stands against the welter
02.11.11
North Mozia
by Edward Helfers
North Mozia (Sicilian: Mozzia, from Mothya) is a small volcanic island straddling the Mediterranean and Tyrrhenian seas, situated just outside the Italian comune of Marsala, and is generally included as part of the Trapani Islands.
02.04.11
The Flesh-Murmurers
by Daniel Borzutzky
The trees went away and the poles went away and the stop signs went away and the birds went away
01.25.11
Princess of Desire
by Maya Sonenberg
I was merely his customer: that’s what she said.
01.18.11
Third Person Singular
by Rosmarie Waldrop
I says the speaker, the subject.
01.11.11
Logorrhea
by Laura Valeri
The obstetrician was the first to notice.
01.04.11
Book Three: Romance
by Elizabeth Robinson
All life sets itself upon us like a dull, iron-colored grief,/ and the discipline is/ to realize that we haven’t died/ yet.
12.28.10
Still Life with Nixon on the Beach
by Elissa Field
The boat came close to the shore, its sails silent, but we could hear the hissing of water against its fiberglass hull. I told Nixon I want to be away from here.
12.21.10
Our Latitude, Our Longitude
by Ryan Call
The story of how I came to drift so aimlessly, my airship pendulant and high above this wrung-out earth, begins long ago, during that period of uneasy calm before the weather turned so foul.
12.07.10
Habit
by Jennifer Chang
O. is really suffering
11.26.10
CONJUNCTIONS:55, URBAN ARIAS  :::
ONLINE-EXCLUSIVE SUPPLEMENT

Tin Pan Alley Chicago Style
by Barney Rosset
It must have been about 1948. The shabby streets had the murkiness which went with greasy half-wet black tar and glistening drops of oil, water drooled off the battered canopy of the bar, which sort of protected the entrance to this decaying enterprise and protruded its tired face into the deathly quiet deserted Rush Street of Chicago.
11.11.10
The Crossing
by Andrew Mossin
The loneliness was verbal, started in the/ act of seeing the world before us, finding out what we needed to know.
11.05.10
Two Stories
by Louis Cancelmi
Others before them had told tales, of course, had lied, had imagined things, but these were the first to rely strictly on language, its symbols, its logic, its effects.
10.29.10
Three Poems
by Daniel Coudriet
Dozens of beds burrowing in the yard.
10.21.10
The Wentworth Hotel and Ballroom
by Thomas Gough
Why is it that when I cross the final street before the Wentworth Hotel my eye is drawn to the weave of electric bus lines bolted with cables to the stuccoed buttresses of the retaining walls, to the concrete-based streetlamps where I have never failed, and do not fail tonight, to see the house painters in their white uniforms?
10.14.10
Five Poems
by Kerry Banazek
the opening. that joinery is alarming. ulna, radius, elbow, humerus, shoulder joint that brings sight to the edge of this and other half-born worlds.
10.07.10
Three Poems
by CJ Evans
I hear liquor and lather/ and wood. I press my ear// to the bottom, and I hear/ the steel, the concrete,// the inked earth below.
09.30.10
Five Poems
by Carlos Pardo, translated by Elizabeth Zuba
And everything has a presexual air.
09.22.10
From No T(h)ere
by Mg Roberts
I want to define the perimeter of this body.
09.15.10
Five Poems
by Maxine Chernoff
O inside the O/ breadth of the mountain
09.07.10
From Think Tank
by Julie Carr
In the soft folds of derivation,/ the spheres ring out, but muffled./ That music, that music of affluence turned fluid./ A man/ walks into/ his daughter.
08.31.10
Three Poems
by Sarah Mangold
She recalled the general pleasantness of the atmospheres during those last moments before she became for them a kind of monster
08.24.10
Three Poems
by Nancy Kuhl
tiny bell rant coincident near curve/ wet sunlight negotiating sill and/ chipped-paint ceiling a lesson by hint
08.17.10
Love, an Index
by Rebecca Lindenberg
Fate, about which Breton and Eluard asked in an issue of Minotaur:/ What was the most significant moment/ of your life, and did you recognize it at the time?
08.10.10
The Broken Cup
by Steven Harvey
Talking about Trotsky who appeared as a character in a book you are reading, you set an empty wine glass on a thick tile coaster.
08.03.10
Three Poems
by Eric Higgins
Today, in passing, I grew sick of the world/ of author’s ideas. I crossed a street/ and arrived into rubble.
07.27.10
Six Poems
by Angélica Tornero, translated by Krista Ingebretson
They burn a twist, between my eyes, and the intermediate hierarchy of an image this/ afternoon: cempasúchil, copal—in the upper part of the low bookcase—libation, oblation.
07.20.10
The Delicate Architecture of Our Galaxy
by Quintan Ana Wikswo
My mother lived in a mason jar. Twice daily, I took the lid off. She said it was to allow her to breathe, but she only seemed to dive deeper.
07.12.10
René Renée
by Tom Cotsonas
The story is about a woman who is dreaming she is dreaming, and who in the dream’s dream wakes herself up because she knows she is frightened of dreaming.
07.05.10
Teratology
by Kyle Winkler
Teratology, the study of human monsters, is a young science, one that is desperate for respect, or, at least, attention.
06.28.10
From Meeks
by Julia Holmes
The world was once pure: animals tilted their perfectly formed heads to listen to the workings of the great clock, the sky-blue waters churning over the sunlit rocks. All was well. Then a twig snapped. Something was coming. It was I. I was traveling in my characteristic way: lumbering, unstoppable, crashing through the fragile woods.
06.20.10
Three Poems
by Brandon Kreitler
It might begin with lips enclosing speech./ Not movement, but the possibility of movement withheld./ He evokes the direction of circus animals and it doesn’t take./ Nor is there gesture for the kissed-off color of the sky,/ A way to say/ The knife glints in the crosshairs of stars/ Like a plot point.
06.13.10
From An Archive of the Lives of
Retired Gunslingers

by Christopher Hellwig
Oxskin Murphy was born to a poor Oklahoma cattlehand and his wife, and was so legally named Oxskin by his father, his mother having died during childbirth. In a squalid cottage on the fringe of the large ranch on which he worked, Mr. Murphy intended to rear his son as a gunslinger, and, indeed, Oxskin’s first revolver and holster were given to him on his sixth birthday.
06.06.10
The Screaming Trees
by Amish Trivedi
I became the self immolation/ fired and stark, my dreams.
05.30.10
From The Mayflies
by Sara Veglahn
A package tied with twine is thrown off the bridge. A leather satchel full of letters is flung into the river. Shirts, sweaters, hats, gloves are tossed off in fits of joy and fall to the river to be taken away by the current.
05.23.10
Four Poems
by Jack Christian
And were you cold last night/ And in dreams somewhat amphibian.
05.16.10
CONJUNCTIONS:54, SHADOW SELVES  :::
ONLINE-EXCLUSIVE SUPPLEMENT

Untitled (Sid Vicious, New York, 1978)
by Gabriel Blackwell
The eye is first drawn to that illusion of movement in the right foreground: a checkered taxicab with its rear curb-side door hanging open and a young Sid Vicious entering or exiting the cab, his motion-blurred face visible over the flat plane of the cab’s roof, and the cab, too, ghostly, slightly blurred as though moving off, up Twenty-third Street, away from the Hudson.
05.09.10
A Terrible Thing
by Sarah Blackman
No one would have disputed it was a terrible thing. It was a terrible thing. A thing that had happened, that frequently happened to very many people they had individually known and some whom they had known together.
04.30.10
Zelda Revisited
by Brian Oliu
Unlike before we start not in the middle of a decision, not in the middle of the egg, but in a house that someone has built.
04.23.10
From The Source
by Noah Eli Gordon
The story is essentially the same: if you are intent on your climb and would never consider cutting back, then balance the sphere of ordinary understanding not in any mere figure of speech, still bent over the shoes you’re mending, but in actual fact loosened from its anchorage to the body.
04.16.10
Five Poems from Mouth of Hell
by María Negroni, translated by Michelle Gil-Montero
Strange impatience of horses. Jumbled crossbows, arquebuses. Some luxurious circus or royal company.
04.09.10
The Hollow Leg
by Samantha Stiers
Late one night, a father bends over his workbench, removes his daughter’s right femur, and sharpens it into a walking stick.
03.31.10
Three Poems
by Erin Gay
When I karate chop the world in half, I need you by my side. Everything has two pieces and you’ve never tasted an orange so ripe. The seeds are not visible but sonic.
03.24.10
Four Poems
by Timothy O’Keefe
Everyone had a mother then, a working train set,/ and a nearby promenade to daze among flowers/ whose names were difficult to pronounce.
03.17.10
From Sign of Order in the Universe
by James Grinwis
In the overture a finch caresses a watermelon with its beak. It is a large watermelon and the bird is very small. You are reminded of several images but one or another stands out.
03.10.10
From Rune to Ruin
by Miranda Mellis
I can see the sky so white it’s leached of white and branches of winter trees like rude lace.
03.03.10
Soldiers
by Porter Fox
The soldiers marched off the TV screen in two columns. There were thirty of them dressed in desert fatigues. They barely fit into Frank’s living room.
02.24.10
From Marvels
by Christopher DeWeese
I was a company town,/ a modest house of debtors/ tucked between the wildflowers
02.17.10
Nine
by Anne Tardos
Nine words per line and nine lines per stanza.
02.10.10
Two Stories
by Aleš Šteger, translated by Aljaž Kovač and Forrest Gander
Quietly, covertly, bears have toddled into the name Berlin.
02.03.10
Three Conversation Pieces from Unlucky Lucky People
by Daniel Grandbois
Despite the soot that tumbles from the sky, our old people look good—the color of milk and veal roast.
01.27.10
Two Poems
by Ava Lehrer
Have you ever seen a rock garden?// She was at the head who asked what it meant./ How do these rocks relate to the end of this man, as well as the end of them?/ They don’t, or they didn’t while I stood there for you.
01.20.10
Three Poems
by Jason Myers
When sanity grew tiresome, I went walking through the ghetto./ I bought kidneys, watched buildings crumble,/ offered no hand, no kind word.
01.13.10
Four Poems
by Adam Scheffler
My robot comes to me in the night afraid of death.
01.06.10
Three Poems
by Rebecca Hazelton
Remember me as an/ elephant figurine,/ chipped trunk, one ear,/ or a tailless squirrel/ languishing in dust.
12.30.09
Two Stories
by Marguerite W. Sullivan
She hired a man to build a gazebo for her. The yard was green and grassy as any, but in an absent moment called out for a structure beyond its billowing color.
12.23.09
From Fabric
by Richard Froude
At Bristol Zoo in the mid 1990s I watched an LED display of the world’s increasing population. The figure was juxtaposed with the decreasing acreage of rainforest. What I mean is, I am interested in sequence.
12.16.09
Light Without
by Matthew Kirkpatrick
Two nearly identical babies born at the same time on a hot August night. An orderly at the end of a twelve-hour shift, angry and confused by unfair events earlier that day, switches the identities of the children before heading home to a tall Pabst and stale corn chips and a sleeping lover curled on the couch glowing gray from a snowy television. He finishes his drink and leaves his lover in the light. Beneath the glass a trapped star sizzles against the screen.
12.09.09
The Pond
by Martha Schwendener
That’s pretty, she thinks as the hood of the car tips into the pond and the windshield is covered with green algae and lily pads and little white things that look like flower petals.
12.02.09
From Underground Sonnets
by Sarah Riggs
Tell us, lines, what we should say. Let the hand-/ writing govern our movements.
11.25.09
CONJUNCTIONS:53, NOT EVEN PAST  :::
ONLINE-EXCLUSIVE SUPPLEMENT

The Will of Achilles
by Robert Kelly
But under the rain/ a different thing. Vine leaves/ Achilles sees, inconsequent/ myrtles. There is no end/ to weather. The gods are done with him.
11.08.09
Three Poems
by Jett McAlister
(Not the light that tethers towards) (a melting/ fortunate, thanks due)
10.28.09
Engine Blanket
by Elizabeth Logan Harris
Dill brung Rita a whole lot of long flowers after he run his car up in her yard and smashed Julie’s trike. The box them flowers come in was near about the size of a kiddie coffin.
10.21.09
Three Poems from The Rest of the Voyage
by Bernard Noël, translated by Eléna Rivera
air steams borders leafless branches a low sky/ makes eyes believe that finally they see matter/ what is the space between these open fingers
10.14.09
Three Poems
by Kristin Aardsma
Their knees knock the shudder of bone while their hands/ fist their dresses into peonies.
10.07.09
Nervous Recollection
by Trent England
I was old enough to remember the last tumor in our town. It inhabited a girl my age who shared a last name close to mine, sitting in classes near me.
09.30.09
The Well at Founders Grove
by Pedro Ponce
Many critics, seeking a precedent for the work of novelist Clarence Winthrop, cite the fictional topographies of Anderson’s Winesburg or Faulkner’s Yoknapatawpha.
09.23.09
No One Can Name the General
by Elmo Lum
It’s winter: the season of hunching, the season of sleeves and long jackets, of hands in pockets, of woolen caps, flipped-up collars, and darkened streets.
09.16.09
Trophies We Don’t Deserve
by Greg Pierce
Here’s my best friend Davis’s stupid idea: mix up a bloodlike substance, pour it all over my face, knock on some old guy’s door, tell him we’ve been in a car accident, come in, rob him.
09.02.09
Low Season
by Anthony Schneider
It is the low season and the pool is not crowded. A fiftyish German couple occupies the area nearest the beach path, buttressed by open bags and facedown magazines. A darkly tanned woman pulls a ululating child across the shallow end.
08.26.09
Six Poems
by Sylvia Legris
Syringes crescendo incrementally. Segmental sound drift. Rostrum-gist shifts from leading edge to trailing. Feathers shed antithetically (molto molting melodeon).
08.19.09
From Just Looking
by Jesse Dorris
Freddy caught his reflection in the window of Sophistication—he looked good. His hair had followed orders this morning, succumbing to the blow and comb. He’d ratted it up and over one eye to balance the big white shirt flowing over his tight pants, the studded belt and boots. Tough and put together—no one in Lynch looked like him.
08.05.09
Universe
by Susan Steinberg
One does not start with mourning doves. One cannot start with doves surrounding the bedroom. One starts with the trip to Sausalito, the quick ride over the bridge, the city shrinking in the sideview.
07.29.09
Two Stories
by B. Kite
Dr. Sperber sat in the corner, rhythmically clicking his gums.
07.22.09
Three Stories
by Kim Chinquee
Outside, skeletons were knocking.
07.08.09
Too Late
by Mario Andrea Rigoni, translated by Gregory Dowling
There was a lively and cheerful hubbub on the quay, as we waited for the gangplanks to be lowered and the embarkation procedures to begin. The ship, painted all in white, flaunted its high, elegant flank with a double row of sky-blue stripes on its stern—like upturned circumflex accents—and its name on the prow, Eucalyptus—written in golden characters—already stirring dreams of Greek landscapes.
07.01.09
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Fur-Covered Teacup
by Priscilla Long
Wallace Stevens, American poet. Born October 2, 1879, in Reading, Pennsylvania. Composed the quintessential Modernist poem, “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird,” published 1917. Meret Oppenheim, Swiss artist. Born October 6, 1913, in Berlin. Created the quintessential Surrealist object, Breakfast in Fur, exhibited 1936.
06.24.09
Four Poems
by Allison Carter
Alaska turned 10 on a/ summer storm day.// She set out breakfast/ on a rickety table by/ the summer sea// Alaska loves breakfast best.
06.10.09
Twelve Symmetries
by Bin Ramke
I walked up all your stars, stairs to wake you, walk you home but you were not there where the taking, talking, was taking place, taking the place of, the pace of a love affair, afar, a fair love and languor, language will do that; Rise, balloon./td>
06.03.09
The Table
by Michele Fialer
When I met him he evinced many qualities which I admired, or enjoyed, and a few qualities which scared me, or which I did not understand, or which I found annoying.
05.27.09
Three Poems
by Cristiana Baik
Good night air glows/ under the quantum/ quiet fury
05.06.09
Tentacle Mind Report
by Stefani Nellen
We are here, our tentacles coiled in the pond of Martina’s soul, the one untouched by the storm. We see everything. We saw everything. We float here in the cold until her lantern fish mind returns and chases us deeper into the dark. In slow, thudding heartbeats, we pass judgment.
04.29.09
Messina (II): Beckmann
by Scott Henkle
On the 28th of December 1908, an early morning earthquake felled the port city of Messina, in northeastern Sicily. After it came a huge wave and then, when the water had receded or settled into lagoons, fire.
04.22.09
On the Brink
by Mary Morris
I’m standing in the jungle, ankle-deep in mud. It’s dark and hot and the heat seeps through my camouflage gear. My boots, my flak jacket and holster, everything is wet.
04.15.09
Two Poems
by Eric Linsker
Our failure in the waves/ What is left of wind scuffling through wind
04.01.09
Egyptomania
by Adam McOmber
The poet’s study was cluttered with his wife’s Egyptian marvels—the plaster head of Isis, a letter opener shaped like the claw of the cat god, Bast, even a shard from an actual canoptic jar that he was to use as a paperweight.
03.25.09
Five Poems
by Yang Zi, translated by Ye Chun and Melissa Tuckey
That night on my way home,/ a strange team appeared in front of me.
03.18.09
An Index of How Our Family Was Killed
by Matt Bell
A brother, a father, a mother, a sister.
03.04.09
Mauricio Kagel on Borges and Gombrowicz
Selections from interviews by Werner Klüppelholz, translated by William Bamberger
Composer Mauricio Kagel was born in Buenos Aires in 1931. While studying to be a composer Kagel was also very involved with world literature and with writers in Argentina: here he tells of studying under Jorge Luis Borges and of playing chess with Witold Gombrowicz.
02.25.09
From A Compendium of Domestic Incidents
by Joanna Ruocco
For her 16th birthday, he gave her a wax statue of Desiderius Erasmus.
02.18.09
Ghost Variations
by Margot Singer
We woke at the same moment, our hearts twanging in our chests.
02.04.09
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
Adventures in Shangdu
by Cathy Park Hong
The contractors were in such a hurry to catch up with the rest of the world that they rushed off before they finished building Highrise 88.
HEAR CATHY PARK HONG READ FROM THIS AND OTHER WORK (KGB BAR, 10/13/2013)
01.28.09
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
Augustino
by D. E. Steward
Merely three stops out Kiev’s Green Line Metro\ To Dorohozhycli\ And Babi Yar
01.28.09
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
Two Poems
by Forrest Gander
What words go with crossing? Orange and security and ventriloquist. This is a special message.
01.28.09
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
Breathing Room
by Martine Bellen
Instruments of music and surgery,\ Statues of birds and kings
01.21.09
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
Last Man
by Donald Revell
The hawthorn is God’s hat\ And patterns in the marble\ Swarm like bees
01.21.09
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
Take This Poem
by Elizabeth Willis
Take this spoon\ from me, this\ cudgel, this axe.
01.21.09
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
Three Poems
by Sandra Meek
Dark rosette in the lung’s/ pewter lace, early autumn chill
01.14.09
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
Three Poems
by Robert Kelly
They are blowing the leaves away
01.14.09
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
The Picture of the Spirit
by Elizabeth Robinson
Clarify now that “you,” “she,” “I” do not know to stand except at an interchange.
01.07.09
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
Two Poems
by Catherine Imbriglio
I withhold these truths, in formula, from you …
01.07.09
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
Three Poems
by Ellen Wehle
Lanterns follow the footpath/ Briefly then dwindle.
01.07.09
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
When the Mimes Left for Paris
by Matt Reeck
road:                  fissure opening lengthwise
12.31.08
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
Five Poems
by Ange Mlinko
Babyclothes made of camo—/ There should be a Lysistrata in the forsythia.
12.31.08
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
Two Poems
by Andrew Mossin
Lair and line./ Canopy and carapace.
12.31.08
New Year’s Poetry Festival: Winter 2009
Emily Dickinson Undressing
by Daneen Wardrop
In Amherst they’ve just emptied the hundred trunks/ found next door in the attic of her brother and sister-in-law,/ trunks of clothing not catalogued yet,/ and Jane Wald, the Dickinson Homestead director,/ lets me touch them.
12.31.08
Disappear
by Andrew Malan Milward
In the months before the lake disappeared, I began having lunch every day with my high school guidance counselor.
12.24.08
Black
by Nora Khan
When I was little, just a boy living in Pensacola, I used to chase gopher snakes, and I don’t remember anyone calling them their proper name, indigo snakes, no, they were just gophers, or rainbow wrigglers, or shineys, or oilers, which was my favorite name for them because their skin was truly the deepest jet black you can imagine, and in that ugly, heavy sun the black skin would flint sparks of teal, gold, violet, all the rainbow colors of an oil slick.
12.17.08
From My Lorenzo 3: The Tournament
by Sébastien Smirou, translated by Andrew Zawacki
the may of the states’ pax plays i accept all while the love/ of lucrezia belle donati rose’s flesh forges the force at last
12.10.08
The Behavior of Pidgeons
by Gabriel Blackwell
There are seven Walter Pidgeons seated in a waiting room measuring twenty-two feet by twenty-two feet.
12.03.08
The People Catalogue
by Michael Parrish Lee
She moves over a snowless sidewalk under dead winter night. Cold gasps of dryness at her neck—the front, now the back.
11.26.08
Three Poems
by Dan Rosenberg
I came to, feeling broke/ about the head,/ a crown of spoons in my hair.
11.19.08
On My Mother’s Death
by Rusty Morrison
I fit an elm, like a lens, in the sightline between myself/ and my mother’s death.
11.12.08
Two Poems
by Seth Abramson
Or he attracts the devil he reflects, on all fours
11.05.08
Three Poems
by Jeanine Walker
a door slammed the door was a way home and a way out
10.29.08
From All Electrons Are (Not) Alike
by Rosmarie Waldrop
A view of the sea is the beginning of the journey. An image of Columbus, starting out from the abyss, enters the left hemisphere.
10.22.08
Four Poems
by Anthony Madrid
BETWEEN myself and a lover of Spenser, there is a chasm for which no bridge/ Is long enough or strong enough to withstand the blasting winds.
10.15.08
May I Not Seem to Have Lived
by Joseph Cardinale
In the autumn after my wife vanished I enrolled in an undergraduate course in Astronomy.
10.08.08
Six Poems
by Hai Zi, translated by Ye Chun
Woman of June gathers water, gathers moonlight.
10.01.08
Five Poems
by John High
The two remained anonymous to wind/ & eternal without bells the vacant/ monastery on an edge of sea where
09.24.08
Three Poems
by Fani Papageorgiou
In the Bay of Biscay/ Deep into the sea/ Lives Obadiah/ The giant Nautilus.
09.17.08
The East
by Michael Agresta
I was talking with a friend about real estate. We’d just finished volleyball practice and we were feeling robust.
09.10.08
Show of Affection
by Laurence Klavan
Chopping noises. Then—a scream.
09.03.08
Two Poems
by Alexandra Wilder
I do remember the mouth/ as a well-worn nursery rhyme,/ a dusty adding machine.
08.27.08
Two Poems
by Richard Deming
Now that there is nothing left, for instance,/ the taste of fear dries the upper lip.
08.20.08
Part II of The Western Rim
by Matthew Gleeson
Here I will gracefully withdraw my presence, and leave you with Cortés’s pursuit of the woman in the frogskin smock—
08.13.08
Part I of The Western Rim
by Matthew Gleeson
In 1493 in Medellín Hernán Cortés murdered his infant brother, after it was prophesied that the young Ferdinand would grow to be stronger and more clever and able in every way than his older sibling.
08.06.08
Three Poems
by John Duvernoy
if you wander away from the picnic the wolves
07.30.08
From Breakdown Cover
by Ted Mathys
In all philosophies of consequence a small glass marble is hosted by a vast glass sphere.
07.22.08
Ideas of Space
by Norman Lock
I had lived always among the trees; and when, at last, I came out onto the Plain, my head reeled and I was sick.
07.16.08
Deer Song
by Melanie Rae Thon
In your father’s house, you and your father and your father’s wife and their children, your sisters, Juliana and Roxie, ate venison steak and mashed potatoes—green beans, sweet carrots—bread torn from the loaf, apples baked with raisins and cinnamon: earth and air, root and animal.
07.09.08
Croquet
by Melissa Pritchard
Mother’s Day—our last, ma petite mere, sugared battle-ax, thorny womb, my life’s obsession.
07.01.08
Three Mysteries
by Marin Buschel
People had been disappearing.
06.24.08
Pink Pyramid
by Terese Svoboda
A pink pyramid rises out of the flat ground, its faux granite facing of pressed shell ablaze with reflected sun.
06.17.08
Payment
by Elmo Lum
The truth is no one tells me anything. And the truth is even when they tell me something, sometimes the something they tell me is a lie.
06.10.08
Three Poems
by Maureen McHugh
In the middle of that slice there was an eye, a white center,/ the smoothness authentic as the skin of angels
06.03.08
Three Poems
by Vincent Katz
Morning lazy sounds
05.27.08
Eyes of Dogs
by Lucy Corin
A soldier came walking down the road, raw from encounters with the enemy, high on release, walking down the road with no money.
05.20.08
Urban Planning: Case Study the Fifth
by Tim Horvath
It is hard to convey to you, who have never been to Ganzoneer, the comic futility that attends to any attempt to walk firmly there due to the elasticity of her streets, walls, and sidewalks, which send the newcomer flailing and sprawling.
05.13.08
Two Stories
by Shawn Vestal
Julian visits. He’s the kind of person who will say, over dinner, to your wife, that he believes tattoos are ruining pornography.
05.06.08
Souls, Seduction of
by Anne Sanow
Which ones do you hate, Mercy, she asks me.
04.29.08
Two Poems
by Nancy Leonard
Anthropologies of dance
04.22.08
Two Poems
by James McCorkle
Over shimmered flats, ray and tarpon,/ shimmering all silver/ light, titanium white
04.15.08
Two Stories
by Christopher Boucher
Then everything became slippery. Suddenly I couldn’t hold my wife’s hand, couldn’t grasp the chess pieces when we played.
04.08.08
Polyhedron
by Robert Fernandez
Intending to begin at the billowing page, the flesh calls back its bulls, the divers arrange themselves, occur as gods (loa) occur: that is pliant, beds of mushrooms (pendentives), intersected by light.
03.28.08
Two Episodes from God May Be All Around
by Alexander Vvedensky, translated by Eugene Ostashevsky
VENUS, sitting in her broken-down bedroom and trimming her last nails
03.21.08
Three Poems
by Suzanne Rindell
Yet another idea of the self:/ a multitude of fragments/ temporarily moving as one,/ each dissent a quick death
03.14.08
Fantomina: A Fantasia in Verse
by Julie Phillips Brown
A young Lady of distinguished Birth, Beauty, Wit, and Spirit, happened to be in a Box one Night at the Playhouse; where, though there were a great Number of celebrated Toasts, she perceived several Gentlemen extremely pleased themselves with entertaining a Woman who sat in a Corner of the Pit, and, by her Air and Manner of receiving them, might easily be known to be one of those who come there for no other Purpose, than to create Acquaintance with as many as seem desirous of it.
03.07.08
Oktombro
by D. E. Steward
Perspective as in great mountains where we’re less than ants in the dunes
02.29.08
Five Objects
by Martha Ronk
You enter the room in which each item has been carefully placed, not perfectly or according to any specific aesthetic rules, but by whim, one’s idiosyncratic sense that a certain item belongs here or exactly there, next to the other.
02.22.08
The Assembly
by John Holliday
There came a point when I had firmly instituted myself in The Assembly, had inserted myself in The Society, had rightly secured my position in The Outfit whose subject matter and topical goings-on are totally irrelevant and extraneous to the material being processed here,
02.15.08
Same Life / Different One
by Lucas Southworth
There is a man and there is a woman. There is a house with high ceilings, painted white. There are photographs here, all hanging and framed, all shrouded in shadow.
02.08.08
Cosima
by Scott Henkle
In the fall of 1936 Grazia Cosima Deledda wrote: When I was a young woman I left Sardinia for Rome, where I have lived ever since and where I sit now and write this, having not returned to Sardinia in many years.
02.01.08
High Latency: Faith as a Necker Cube and the Erotics of Lag
by Brian Christian
Both my grandfather and my uncle have had careers as professional drummers, and my father and I are compulsive tappers, our fingers fidgeting endlessly on every available surface—a dashboard, a tabletop, a thigh.
01.25.08
The Potato Messiah: A Love Song
by Sandra Newman
that certain peoples in those isles had heads filled with raw potato instead of brains, and this did not prevent them going on to achieve competitive salaries.
01.18.08
Toward the Surface
by David Huerta, translated by Mark Schafer
The surface is dark.
01.10.08
Three Poems
by T. Zachary Cotler
Extinct women and men are falling/ through the wires.
01.03.08
Three Stories
by Daniel Grandbois
The old man made a list of things that would not notice his death.
12.27.07
From The Reserve
by Russell Banks
At six, well before the rest of the family woke, Jordan Groves left his bed.
12.13.07
Two Poems
by Mark Irwin
long, jointed bones, floating like a bird’s
12.06.07
Acquiescence
by Nick Kocz
Roving packs of five-year olds roam the overgrown lots by the abandoned steel mills.
11.29.07
The Pool House
by Elizabeth Gumport
Every once in awhile, another ghost moves into the pool house.
11.09.07
From Sonnet 56
by Paul Hoover
Sweet love, renew thy force, be it not said/ Thy edge should blunter be than appetite
11.02.07
Three Poems
by Eric Linsker
I forgot it is going to snow
10.25.07
Year of the Bird
by Martine Bellen
On the seventh day of the seventh month, Golden Bird Chinese Food opens its doors
10.18.07
Two Elegies
by Jonathan Thirkield
I remember a tree of a painting.
10.11.07
Objects of the Visible Language
by Amy Catanzano
Do you believe in the once indivisibility of atoms?
10.04.07
The Other Walk
by Sven Birkerts
This morning, going against all convention, I turned right instead of left and took my circuit—one of my circuits—in reverse.
09.27.07
Draft 85: Hard Copy
by Rachel Blau DuPlessis
17 May 1986./ Or whenever “now” is.
09.13.07
The Pool
by Colleen Hollister
It’s not Jenny who runs, or Elizabeth.
09.06.07
From Wave Offering
by Laynie Browne
Today is day one of the Omer
08.30.07
Two Poems
by Matt Reeck
The rostrum is able to mail./ Malachy owns a keyshop.
08.23.07
Three Poems
by Julia Cohen
Comb the chrysalis from your beard to fasten the milkweed
08.16.07
The Slide Turned on End
by Monica McFawn
"Humankind yearns for its amoebaean roots, hence Abstraction." Pause. Pause.
08.09.07
Influenza, Mother of God
by Kathleen Donohoe
We ought to search for Lil when the woods have thinned for winter.
08.02.07
Five Poems
by Christina Mengert
Inside blaze/   earthly figuration/ the lover in pieces at the mouth
07.26.07
Three Fictions
by Andrew R. Touhy
Perhaps three days’ journey south, southwest, across a salt desert leading to an ancient wood dense with black cypress and a strain of ivy so fierce its creeping roots are said to choke even the soil it feeds upon, lies Cieloso, city of floating men and women.
07.19.07
Elegy for the Sentence
by Tasha Haas
I remembered the sentence when I saw the old man and woman walking on the shore the man with a plank for a leg a war having kept the leg.
07.12.07
Notebook A: Notes on Wakefulness and Being
by Ellen Hinsey
The body resists its knowledge of oneness—as if to exist it must renounce that from which it was issued.
07.05.07
Interview with David Markson
by Tayt Harlin
I had a great deal of trouble getting started. I don’t know whether I was afraid or just thought I was bullshitting the world and myself.
06.21.07
Four Poems
by Caroline Morrell
The moon is the kind of birthplace who,/ if in the process of blooming
06.14.07
Four Poems
by Román Antopolsky, translated by Michelle Gil-Montero
Hand on the wall my/ time in turn to/ mute
06.07.07
Works
by Robert Urquhart
place Pigalle night nine teen o five/ The house of Dr Gachet
05.31.07
A Hill in Spain
by Victoria Blake
On our honeymoon, I caught a stomach bug in Spain
05.23.07
Five Lyrics
by Rod Smith
The codes reawake
05.16.07
Major Nixon
by Jason Grunebaum
Rob Nixon, do you remember me?
05.09.07
They Found the Claw and Hung from It Chimes
by James Grinwis
The Aztec baby came in on the back of the wolf.
05.02.07
The Devil, A Digression
by Michael Stewart
The Devil has black tangled hair.
04.25.07
Work Song
by Kevin Magee
It is an hour. One/ of those hours.
04.18.07
Paul Klee
by Juliana Leslie
How to compose a question: to spell the word blue/ in Paul Klee’s painting entitled Paul Klee’s The color blue
04.11.07
The Other Borges: A Fiction
by Carlos Dews
The encounter I will describe here occurred in the Buenos Aires mid-winter of 2004; it has taken me until now to muster the courage to recount it and to conclude, as the gentleman involved insisted, that it contains a story that must be told.
04.04.07
Is It Twice As Big?
by Erika Howsare
We’d just gotten up./ We’d washed our faces./ Sky-blue mugs of coffee.
03.28.07
Two Poems
by Ariana Reines
The water needs a forder.
03.21.07
A Map of Her Town
by Jason Schwartz
The knife recurs as a figure in certain rooms.
03.14.07
Three Poems
by Megan Pugh
We need new ways of living/ without resorting to crocodiles/ in wading pools
03.05.07
The Ones Who Came after the Ones Who Could Fly
by Thomas Hopkins
My father, like every man of his generation in our country, never quite got over the loss of flight.
02.25.07
Interview with Theodore Enslin
by Robert J. Bertholf
What is the relationship in your mind between musical forms and lexical forms in a poem, or what is the process for translating musical form into poetry?
02.19.07
From The Woodblock Prints
by Rebecca Stoddard
“a swan and its reflection on the water’s black surface”
02.11.07
The Coca-Cola Executive in the Zapatoca Outhouse
by Juan Martinez
The Coca-Cola executive was kind to me, though everyone was being kind that summer.
01.28.07
Three Poems
by Eva Hooker
Round uneven sumptuous it heaves up its weight
01.17.07
Rothko Chapel Sequence
by Anthony Hawley
Spaces/ farther off/ are spaces/ farther off
01.08.07
Trail System
by Philip Pinch
I flush out a bird.
12.26.06
Flood
by David Shields
Rain falls like needles, but Carla’s parents’ back porch, sheltered by a lean-to roof and enclosed by a tight green net, keeps us dry.
12.18.06
Three Poems
by Jon Thompson
How the entire story is enjambed with color
12.11.06
Can’t Stand It
by Donald Revell
I hear the elephant music/ Of the rusted swings
12.04.06
Bobcat
by Kim Chinquee
I’d just turned thirteen. I was sitting in the hayloft.
11.27.06
The Story of My Accident Is Ours
by Rachel Levitsky
If I no longer exist, if in fact I may never have existed in the first place, then do I have a name?
11.16.06
Three Poems
by Tomaž Šalamun, translated by Brian Henry
You didn’t satisfy to us, man from Australia
11.04.06
Eight Experiments in Artifice
by Noah Eli Gordon
A barge passing below a bridge is an example of a green horizon free from the expectation of green.
10.09.06
The Art of Comedy
by Matthew Cheney
We had all failed by then—failed as husbands,
09.29.06
Before You Leave La Spezia You Must See the Church
by Joseph Starr
I won’t need to tell you how we built it, the dwelling, the house.
09.15.06
To Be Taken
by Justine Haemmerli
I am going to write a story called “To Be Taken.”
09.08.06
Bather, Alone: An Essay
by Joni Tevis
Some cave naked for fear of contaminating the water they mean to study.
09.01.06
Three Poems
by Sandra Meek
Another pearl scimitar / sheathed in fawn
08.23.06
ZZ’s Sleep-Away Camp for Disordered Dreamers
by Karen Russell
Emma and I are curled together in the basket of the Insomnia Balloon, our breath coming in soft quick bursts.
08.01.06
Two Poems
by Erin Lambert
If the landscape has a pattern then it begins with your wrist
07.17.06
The Book of A
by Andrew Mossin
A voice comes to one in the dark. Her voice or mine.
07.03.06
From The Twenty-Four Words for Snow
by Brian Richardson
Above the Arctic Circle the sun sets and does not rise again for weeks.
06.08.06
From Four selections from COLOR PLATES part 4: Mary Cassatt
by Adam Golaski
From an aperture she has made in the Venetian blinds she watches leaves fall.
05.24.06
Traffic and Weather
by Marcella Durand
Coming across the floor to greet us
05.09.06
Five Poems
by Justin Lacour
Back then nostalgia was a doll, / you could swallow.
05.02.06
Four Poems
by Logan Burns
Upon the comal crop, winter, I separate what’s mine. Mimic me.
04.26.06
Two Poems
by Brian Lucas
Thorny sky the possession enjoyment brings suspended in a circle of blue messages.
04.19.06
Calavera
by Toby Olson
There are stories handed down through generations, not because children desire and are in need of them, but because their parents now understand them and can remember sitting at the knees of their own parents, listening to the telling.
04.11.06
Two Poems
by Rebecca Reynolds
Take the sentence and divide out:
04.03.06
The Green Bird
by Juan Emar
A 1937 story, with an introduction by Pablo Neruda and an illustration by the author, translated into English for the first time by Daniel Borzutzky.
03.15.06
Zoo Throes
by Terese Svoboda
We don’t start then. It’s an hour later, after snakes, after monkeys.
03.07.06
Three Stories
by Megan Martin
They were bored, highly irritated by the goings-on of the world, not to mention sick and tired of one another, so they decided to make Texarkana again.
02.28.06
Her Purchase
by Dawn Raffel
The woman is awake now. She opens her purse.
02.21.06
Five Poems
by Nadia Herman Colburn
In the box there was no beginning and no end, but an openness stopped on all sides by the edges.
02.14.06
Three Poems
by Thomas Hummel
if keeper shall her self infected house / twenty eight after the person dying
02.07.06
Preamble
by Jason Schwartz
The bed recurs as a figure in certain burnings—the torches fixed to boards, for skeletons, and the boiling oil in pots, in urns, in bowls.
01.31.06
Two Poems
by Marjorie Welish
When next more likely pantheonic backward-looking aspect, / it obtains that coin.
01.24.06
Three Poems
by Aaron Bannister
Conviction is an engine, yes, / but idleness bubbles and babbles, too.
01.17.06
From The Hour Sets
by Michael C. Boyko
The researcher walks to the nine o’clock station and circles the cube, taking notes and making sketches.
01.09.06
Five Poems
by Rosmarie Waldrop
Impossible. Without the idea of counting. To imagine numbers.
12.17.05
Between Tongues: An Interview with Rosmarie Waldrop
by Matthew Cooperman
Poet, translator and publisher, Rosmarie Waldrop has, over the last forty years, brilliantly aided and abetted the conversations of the avant garde between America and the European continent.
12.17.05
CONJUNCTIONS:45, SECRET LIVES OF CHILDREN  :::
ONLINE-EXCLUSIVE SUPPLEMENT

Three Poems
by Daniel Coudriet
All of the children held in a blue sweater, / who is it knitting them together with tiny thumbs.
12.12.05
CONJUNCTIONS:45, SECRET LIVES OF CHILDREN  :::
ONLINE-EXCLUSIVE SUPPLEMENT

Levittown
by Lesley Yalen
On the broken slate under the Epstein’s carport, eight feet in eight canvas shoes made a circle.
12.05.05
CONJUNCTIONS:45, SECRET LIVES OF CHILDREN  :::
ONLINE-EXCLUSIVE SUPPLEMENT

Two Poems
by Catherine Imbriglio
I have no one to talk with about my behavior.
11.27.05
CONJUNCTIONS:45, SECRET LIVES OF CHILDREN  :::
ONLINE-EXCLUSIVE SUPPLEMENT

Birth of a Brother
by Sandra Leong
Sometimes I stay home from work without any excuse.
11.18.05
Two Poems
by Ashley VanDoorn
Executives have been instructed with this defense:
10.21.05
Arc XX: Paterfamilia
by Andrew Mossin
Of surrender or denial, surrender and denial
09.24.05
Three Poems
by Elizabeth Sanger
Finally, how to carry the sky/ at twilight? A rose so cool
09.09.05
Responsibilities of the Champagne Flutes
by Sarah Riggs
Here is a glass on this table.
08.26.05
Three Poems
by Soyoung Jung
It starts with examining our shores.
08.11.05
The Book of Beginnings & Endings
by Jenny Boully
And if it were possible to pursue the bleeding heart dove to her nest, what then?
07.27.05
The Castle’s Origin
by Can Xue, translated by Rong Cai
When all reasons to ‘live’ are negated, and when one sentences oneself to death
07.03.05
Storm, lustral
by Andrew Zawacki
Blue as already the shoreline
06.12.05
Nine Poems
by Friedrich Hölderlin, translated by Paul Hoover and Maxine Chernoff
You walk above in the light, / Soulful genius, on a yielding floor!
05.31.05
The Exotic Moods of Les Baxter
by Paul McCormick
Memory of silt and blush.
05.21.05
Robert Creeley: In Memoriam
May 21, 1926 – March 30, 2005
03.31.05 to 05.07.05
Three Poems
by Kimberly Burwick
I leave with that voice? In Austria the alps are blowing
04.27.05
From Quandaries
by Ted Mathys
imprisoned on the fissure the figure considers
04.15.05
Four Poems
by Julianne Buchsbaum
an eternity of New Wave
03.10.05
how human nouns
by Noah Eli Gordon
THEY SAID THE SMALLEST HUMAN HORSE WAS DEAD IN YOUR COSTUME
02.23.05
Scavenger’s Daughter
by Catherine Cafferty
I would walk a tightrope for you
02.11.05
Stations
by Joseph Campana
1. First, Audrey is in the garden. She will be there in the end.
01.13.05
IS EE YO UA RE
by Meghan Ferrill
Ibak is my name.
01.05.05
Swiss Miss
by Toby Olson
Lingers now in peace upon the swollen tide.
12.30.04
From Draft 59: Flash Back
by Rachel Blau DuPlessis
A half glass carafe,/a choice red ochre chalk
11.16.04
From Archicembalo
by G. C. Waldrep
Ask if this showing will make a better weave.
10.18.04
I know the letters this way
by Eric Baus
The way I talk is a result of the way I hear her I was told but it took how long to show up in cursive.
09.17.04
Diagramming Here
An interview with Marjorie Welish by Matthew Cooperman
What informs the decision to paint or write is a question about what necessitates the choice.
08.17.04
CLOUD / RIDGE
by Stephen Ratcliffe
pale blue white haze in front of the vertical plane
08.01.04
Summer Letters
by Joshua Harmon
shored up inside still
07.08.04
The Skirmish
by Kira Henehan
And then I died and went to France.
06.01.04
Two Poems
by Rebecca Black
Play your hand, Madame.
04.17.04
FAQ
by Ben Doyle
I first drew shoes on an animal a long long time ago.
02.26.04
The Library of Seven Readings
by Leonard Schwartz
A sound like the wind possibly, sighing at what is significant
02.17.04
Two Poems
by Brian Swann
It drew in my eyes, a slab, on it a huge white fish
01.22.04
From Nets
by Jen Bervin
Selections from the book forthcoming from Ugly Duckling Presse. Move your cursor over and away from each image to see the poem surrounded by or removed from its original source.
01.06.04
From A Story
by Patrizia Villani
The man is in the backyard, quoting to the stars a secret
12.19.03
The Museum of Small Things
by John Verbos
I’m telling you this because you don’t remember.
11.10.03
From The Rooms Where We Are
by Sally Keith
I keep a math.
10.18.03
From Everything and More
by David Foster Wallace
Here is a quotation from G. K. Chesterton: “Poets do not go mad; but chess players do.”
09.18.03
The Last Hand
by Michael Harris Cohen
Before me lies a man.
09.01.03
The Sangreal
by Marc Robert
These things without nature, proper nature that is, of a terrestrial kind.
08.20.03
Three Poems from The Black Heralds
by César Vallejo, translated by Rebecca Seiferle
There’s the desire to return, to love, to not be absent,/ and the desire to die
08.09.03
From Pirate Talk, or, Mermalade
by Terese Svoboda
Ma, there’s rope in my soup.
08.04.03
January
by Brian Evenson and Stacy Dacheux
In January, during the deepest part of winter, after two years of pleading on my part not to mention numerous gifts and blandishments and increasingly lucrative proposals, she once again agreed to be photographed.
06.09.03
From The Lichtenberg Figures
by Ben Lerner
When a longing exceeds its object, a suburb is founded.
05.10.03
The Prince of Bees
by Michael Hayes
There was nothing left for me after that but the beach—the grey afternoon—bells of cable cars over the lyme grass and a field of desiccated husks sprawling along the dunes.
03.22.03
The Judge’s Wife
by Arielle Greenberg
There’s a tower the lake calls Brother.
02.12.03
Three Poems
by Chris Robson
In prehistoric times there was balance.
01.25.03
Baba Ganesh, Ubiquitous Authority (from the Books of Ubar)
by Amy England
We divide the rectangular glass terrarium diagonally across the bottom, into triangular halves of clay and sand.
12.01.02
Drafts, Updrafts, and the Physiognomy of Air
by Gustaf Sobin
This might have been a story about Vincent van Gogh.
10.08.02
Certain Hazards of Living without the Assumption of Timing
by Lisa Lubasch
Tall words wring hands, though not effortlessly
09.08.02
Three Poems
by Frances Brent
Aunt is sleeping, sitting up, but the chair is missing;
08.30.02
Two Stories
by Micaela Morrissette
Thirty-six percent of unbidden speech is a lie
08.23.02
The American Green Machine
by Gabe Hudson
But first I want to ask you one simple question. CLARENCE T. FORDHAM, can you tell me what you accomplished yesterday?
08.16.02
Three Poems
by Malinda Markham
there is no mnemonic for lips
08.09.02
From Dear Laird Hunt, Author of The Impossibly
by Laird Hunt
Cold has descended on the county.
06.28.02
Shelburne Falls
by Carrie St. George Comer
a woman’s face split like a potato by a bullet, her eye on a spring
06.05.02
All Winter Long the Girls Smoked Tobacco Leaves
by Quintan Ana Wikswo
Up in the hills the talk was of the men all disappeared and presumed dead.
05.30.02
DAU AL SET
by Timothy Liu
Vocalise haunted still by faces smeared with ash.
04.10.02
Three Poems
by John Taggart
Song after a song after story/one of the stories which end in stumps or falsely
04.03.02
The Sound Gun
by Matthew Derby
Nobody knows what we are doing here. We are not entirely sure that the war is still happening.
03.19.02
Vague Swimmers
by Heather Ramsdell
Thank you for saying pathos instead of pathetic, keeping us the same size as before.
03.01.02
Disintegration: Poem for Eva Hesse
by Martha Ronk
Compulsive winding, bandaging
01.19.02
Three Poems
by Reginald Shepherd
He’s sleeplessness pulled through/a seive
01.17.02
Reverse Song
by Peter Gizzi
not because there is a road/ and a woman walking, nor the trees lining this road,/ the light at half mast
01.06.02
Three Poems
by Duncan Dobbelmann
At 4:14 PM on September the ninth my imaginary trough became deeper, allowing for other realities to sidle up next to this one and demand the attention they had been deprived of during the preceding monomaniacal months.
12.12.01
Dildo
by Shelley Jackson
Being a disquisition.
11.12.01
Memory Alpha
by Christopher Sorrentino
Let me clarify: I was a boy who spoke into his eyeglasses.
11.12.01
The Lunatics     The Inmates
by Thomas Bernhard, translated by James Reidel
The brain is so unfree, and the system, into which the brain is born, is so free, the system so free and my brain so unfree, that system and brain are coming to an end.
Read the German original.
10.26.01
Woman Jumping
by Alec Michod
It’s not like she’s one of those super mega hyper self-conscious overly emotionally hypertrophied wrecks prone to sudden--unexpected--grandiose--fits and spats and family-value-meal freak outs.
10.06.01
The Trial
by Isaac Babel, translated by Peter Constantine
A fat, neckless woman, looking like a fish jammed into a frock coat, hurried with lowered head over to the witness box.
09.27.01
Two Stories
by Natazsa Goerke, translated by W. Martin
The narration will drag on into infinity, but the man to whom I owe the most important moment of my life is P. Hammer-Hammer.
09.07.01
Two Poems
by Brenda Coultas
I’m the life-sized rag doll strapped to my master’s shoes dancing salsa in subway.
08.17.01
Notes on the Enclosure of Beams
by Amy Catanzano
Exits got larger and larger
08.10.01
On Monsters That Have Come Forth from Women’s Wombs
by Julia Elliott
It is true that men, upon occasion, generate wild beasts within their bodies.
07.10.01
Peneplain
by Rabia Sandage
The rain came the day before and washed us all out.
05.16.01
Marso
by D. E. Steward
Her hair had become too sparse to hold a pin
04.17.01
Pithiviers
by Sheila Kohler
We were by the river on a blue ground-sheet
04.07.01
Searchlight, 1986–1994
by Gary Hill
Stills from six different installations, spanning nearly ten years
01.07.01
Stance Horizontal and Turning [an essay on the installations of Gary Hill]
by George Quasha and Charles Stein
Standing inside the celestial vault, looking out to the horizon and beyond—
01.07.01
From Others’ Work
by David Chirico
You arrive in a small seaside town where the installations of a little-known artist are currently on view.
12.04.00
What Is Missing
by Amy Havel
Take, for example, the phone call.
11.16.00
The Temple Birds Love Incense
by Rosalind Palermo Stevenson
Everything must be kept spotlessly clean.
08.09.00
From Fin
by Steven Hendricks
The subject is quieted when the object ceases.
07.30.00
Your Lips Testify against You
by Duncan Dobbelmann
I withdrew yet farther into my shell, snug as a meadow louse in a weedy mausoleum.
06.30.00
Light Carried on Air Moves Less
by Joanna Howard
In a lavender twilight, on the west side of an abandoned pasture gone to hay in the greenest part of our state, a mendicant, a scarved pale beauty with silver bell earrings, curled to sleep on kinked metal filings on the floor of a windowless farm shed gone to rot.
06.20.00
Four Prose Poems
by Damon Krukowski
The memory theater burned, and in its ruins I could remember only portions of scripture, commentary, history, poetry, biographies of notable men, successful recipes, homeopathy, botany, and the classification of animals.
06.11.00
Once Confined
by Michael Neff
Pelvis sandstone        beside symbols of question
06.09.00
Bump and Grind
by Dennis Barone
This is how we begin: a little paint here, a little dab there.
05.08.00
Portraits and Repetition
by Stephen Ratcliffe
blue plane of water in motion below line of horizon
04.19.00
Five Poems
by Asadullah Khan Ghalib (1797–1869), translated by Andrew McCord
My chains are no more than links of hair in the flames.
03.28.00
Three Exhibits
by Weldon Kees
In the front room, his sister and some of her high school friends were playfully doing something to the dog that was causing it to howl in pain.
03.05.00
Outside: Postcards from Abroad
by David Shields and Samantha Ruckman
Got strip-searched in Tel Aviv while trying to leave the country.
02.15.00
The Liquidators
by Tom LeClair
To compete with other road shows --monster trucks, heavy metal acts, wrestlemanias --and undersell local discounters, we’re a tour de force and four-day display of surprise.
02.09.00
Musée Mécanique
by Shelley Jackson
Herman Godfrey is a machine, a miniature bachelor.
01.19.00
Matter Has Been Blown off the Surface of this V   i   s   i   b   le  Star
by Eleni Sikelianos
the universe/was the size of a darkening/string
12.12.99
Horses
by Michael Eastman
Fourteen photographs of horses, with an introduction by William H. Gass.
12.07.99
Canaan
by James McCorkle
The dog the dog, the ashes the ashes
11.26.99
The Lightning Field (V)
by Carol Moldaw
Your mind unkinks itself like carded wool
11.10.99
The Word Laid Bare, Part III
by Paul West
How do you get to be called a macaque?
10.26.99
HIGH PRESSURE/film shoots
by Kathrin Rögala, translated by W. Martin (from the German)
the rest of the region turned down to low flame, only the grinning of trees goes on incomparatively long
10.17.99
Sappho’s Sparrows
by Meredith Stricker
a series of messages,/exchanges & encounters
10.08.99
Remembering Mr. Gaddis
by Steven Moore
A report on the memorial service of one of America’s greatest novelists.
9.27.99
The Word Laid Bare, Part II
by Paul West
When all that metal was flying about, it was safer to have a name for it.
8.04.99
The Raven
by Jedediah Berry
Story time done but plenty left over.
5.19.99
Some Maps
by Reginald Shepherd
Which it watches, where it waits
5.17.99
The Word Laid Bare
by Paul West
The English chair puts you to sleep, the French one readies you for an exam.
4.04.99
What Happened with Gilbert That Night
by Aimee Parkison
Think of our silhouettes lengthening across the bare stage, the creak of the wooden boards beneath our feet.
2.27.99
Mechanics
by Sally Keith
This truss cuts early Autumn’s blue plane.
2.12.99
A Quiet Poem
by Elaine Equi
My father screamed whenever the telephone rang.
1.24.99
Fog Life
by Michael Bergstein
The universe is only shredded by men, she thought.
An excerpt from Descent from Abyssinia
1.03.99
Paper Head Last Lyrics
by Andrew Levy
There are questions from the radar.
1.01.99
Tangier Days: Conversations with Paul Bowles, 1984–1988
by Richard F. Patteson
Excerpts from Patteson’s interviews with the author of The Sheltering Sky, Up above the World and “Pages from Cold Point.”
11.28.98
CONJUNCTIONS:31, RADICAL SHADOWS  :::
WEB-EXCLUSIVE SUPPLEMENT

Paul and Peter
by August Strindberg, translated by Peter Constantine
Christmas night lies bitter cold and silent over the capital, and all life seems frozen.
10.14.98
White Mouth
by Donna Stonecipher
Who does not judge each heart by halving it from the top instead of scoring delicately around the girth?
10.03.98
Clerestory
by Catherine L. Kasper
Paint peeling from joints in gutters, the pale bellies of birds.
9.23.98
Song of the Little Road
by Martine Bellen
Oil, salt, chilies stolen from the kitchen
9.01.98
Box
by Tan Lin
nothing is proximate/everything is exactly alike
8.22.98
Woof
by Laurie Stone
I was born covered with hair.
8.12.98
From Nineteen Italian Days: An Essay
by Brian Lennon
Cellini was the Norman Mailer of the Italian Renaissance.
8.10.98
From A Tomb for Anatole
by Stéphane Mallarmé, translated by William Marsh
A new translation of Mallarmé’s text, employing homophonic and anagrammic translation tactics.
8.02.98
Two Stories
by Peter Handke, translated by Scott Abbott
A possible minor epic: of the various head coverings of the passersby in large cities.
8.01.98
Two Portraits
by Christine Hume
Keeping thousands of tiny blue bees in my right arm.
7.15.98
Statuary
by Malinda Markham
All that remains is a lamp with green/at its steepled crown
7.09.98
Hole
by Helen Cho
My hands quiver, a divining rod.
6.09.98
Two Poems
by Betsy Andrews
Down your river of arm, a torrent.
5.18.98
Nose
by Rachel Sherman
We’re talking beauty. Deformations, too.
5.11.98
The Thirty Days
by Yarrow Paisley
In fury—haggard—flailing—weary.
5.03.98
Demons: A Story in Nineteen Volumes
by Paul La Farge
Even before the demons had arrived the backlash against them had begun.
4.26.98
Shadow, Tin, Shadow
by Valerie Wohlfeld
I married my husband because I was afraid of sleep’s eclipse
3.31.98
Herisau: Four Poems
by Jean Frémon, translated by Cole Swensen
The passion to serve. To be another.
3.16.98
Charley Horse Nagasaki Palatine
by Jackson Mac Low
Lyndon’s sweaty stalks embolden
1.29.98
Opium Traffic
by Antonin Artaud, translated by Richard Grossman
It is my intention to respond with sincerity, so that once and for all we shall no longer be assaulted with warnings about the so-called danger of drugs.
01.16.98
The Big R
by Spencer Selby
Hourglass figure/receiving threats
11.30.97
Gold Carp Jack Fruit Mirrors
by George Kalamaras
You want, simply, to stop breathing and hear.
11.18.97
Darkness and Light
by Deborah Pintonelli
Life between the color lines.
10.29.97
Barcelona
by Stacey Duff
Not that I’ve been there.
10.21.97
From Uproar in Heaven
by Cindy Zuoxin Wang
Lyrics from Fred Ho’s opera, translated from Chinese.
10.15.97
From Mermaid’s Purse
by Laynie Browne
A rope of seaweed around her waist.
08.21.97
From Thaumatrope
by Brent Hendricks
Cantatrice of redglass/ as a mirror in flowers
08.21.97
Three Poems
by Thomas Meyer
This same river and its unregarded threads.
07.30.97
Green Angel
by John Yau
Burying the prophet.
06.13.97
Cravings
by Jonathan Safran Foer
The hunger of wives and sisters and mothers.
06.09.97
The Manuscript
by Severo Sarduy, translated by Esther Allen
He had spent the entire night smoking twisted and intoxicating cigars that filled the room with a bluish, sickly sweet smoke.
06.09.97
Must We Stoop for Violets in the Hedge?
by Sara Levine
Caring for Mother’s hair.
06.09.97
Winter Visits against His Cell
by James Robbins
I used to live in an office, or rather, there used to be an office where I live.
06.09.97
The Intransigent Penetration of a Metaphor: A Post-Interview Encounter with Robert Coover
by Michael Keezing
Almost everything I've written has been done out of the country—and after midnight.


06.09.97