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The New York State Writers Institute Celebrates Conjunctions
Bradford Morrow, Ann Lauterbach, and Peter Straub Read at SUNY-Albany
Thursday, September 24, 2015
Recital Hall, Performing Arts, Center, SUNY-Albany, 1400 Washington Ave.
 [The New York State Writers Institute Celebrates Conjunctions] On Thursday, September 24th, at 8:00 p.m., the prestigious New York State Writers Institute will celebrate Bard's provocative, innovative literary journal Conjunctions with a reading by Conjunctions editor Bradford Morrow (Bard literature professor and Bard Center Fellow) and contributing editors Ann Lauterbach (Bard's David and Ruth Schwab Professor of Languages and Literature) and Peter Straub.

The reading will take place at the Recital Hall at the Performing Arts Center on the University at Albany's uptown campus, 1400 Washington Avenue, Albany, New York. It is free and open to the public; no reservations or tickets are required. Copies of the readers' books and of Conjunctions will be available for sale.

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PRAISE FOR CONJUNCTIONS

"Conjunctions is a translation into a multiverse of stories and poems and essays and even weirder hybrid forms, the mutant menagerie of literary fiction. It's a place to take risks; a home in the universe for creative, dangerous writing; an oasis for weirdness and wonder. I read it with Christmas pleasure." —Karen Russell

"Without a doubt, Conjunctions is the best literary magazine in America." —Rick Moody

"Eclectic, innovative, dazzling."—New York Today

"Striking ... rich." —New York Times

"A showplace for some of the most exciting and demanding writers now at work." —Washington Post

"Conjunctions is one of the very best literary magazines in North America. If you like good reading that's also provocative and original, naturally you would be reading Conjunctions." —Joyce Carol Oates 

"One of our most distinctive and valuable literary magazines. The fiction, poetry, criticism, drama, and art is sometimes described as ‘experimental,' but we would also say innovative, daring, indispensable, and beautiful." —PEN American Center  

PRAISE FOR BRADFORD MORROW—

"One of America's major literary voices." —Publishers Weekly

"A distinguished American man of letters." —The Independent 

"Morrow's assiduous probing of the intricacies of moral choice hit us where we live—or ought to live." —The New York Times Book Review

PRAISE FOR ANN LAUTERBACH—

"Lauterbach has found new forms for expressing the continuousness of change: its ways of summoning and disrupting intimacy, of evoking and subverting the position of perceptions and the framing and decentering play of language itself." —Boston Review

"Ann Lauterbach's poetry goes straight to the elastic, infinite core of time."—John Ashbery

PRAISE FOR PETER STRAUB—

"When Peter Straub turns on all his jets, no one in the scream factory can equal him. The plot is challenging, the characters are intriguing in their complexity and the language is a delight." —Stephen King

"Intense and yet measured; serious and melancholy at times, but also humorous. Straub's prose has a tart clarity that allows him to delineate the muddiness of life with great economy and richness. He has a superb ear for dialogue, both spoken and silent." —The Guardian


Contact: Micaela Morrissette, [email protected], 845-758-7054
http://www.conjunctions.com

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In Print

Vol. 79
Onword
Fall 2022
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

November 23, 2022
I SAW ALL THE STRANGENESS IMMEDIATELY,

I saw it in this very particular slide of swell’s,
the sylphspun silk of the sylph, she sideways,
her garage is paradise in masque, her sweep
is saturn, szturn im sturm & string, install’d
in the area’s traverse. he follows that lucky
old sun, the gesture of her lining and loose
knot, and pulls herself through burns and a
dry wash and some soft lead. in discorporate
minerals, or in the sharing of the black sleek
sharing with the wild man in her soft shoes,
all over the panes of the various sworld and
out into the superhighway of bywater, hard
by marigny. to flow through one to another
indetermination, the posture of their brush
must be immaculate fray, all them, all they.
November 16, 2022
Day Book

One wants to grasp a latch.
The broken star, the cellophane.
One suffers if untethered from
the pain that brought a lock.
Across the way the husband tends his teeth.
The wife redresses, parted from her paper.
To emblemize, to separate the word
grief reaches. Grief reaches, unseduced.
November 9, 2022
He had thought for a while of having his ashes placed on a ship propelled out to sea while being set aflame with burning arrows—in his dotage, my father grew obsessed with Norse myth—but in today’s regulatory environment, bringing him here was the closest feasible compromise. “The best moment is when Fenris the giant wolf appears,” he’d told me on Zoom, his voice trembling only slightly. “It draws everyone’s attention, so nobody will be watching you. Do you remember how you used to cry when we got to the wolf?” This sounds more like something Ulf would do, although Ulf doesn’t remember coming here either. Most likely it was a lost intention of my father’s. He might have spent a day talking to strangers in a bar about planning a trip here, an imagined bout of quality time so vivid it became real for him in retrospect. Towards the end, the winter and the lockdown getting to him, my father was drinking forty ounces of vodka a day. I may not have been his favorite son, but I was the one who agreed to scatter his ashes here once, and if, the park reopened after COVID. Ulf would never violate theme park rules.
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