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Conjunctions:70 Launch Reading with Madeline Kearin, Maria Lioutaia, Kyra Simone, and Alexandra Kleeman
KGB Bar celebrates the release of Conjunctions’ spring Sanctuary issue
Wednesday, June 27, 2018
7:00 pm – 9:00 pm EDT/GMT-4
KGB Bar, 85 East 4th Street, New York, NY 10003

Conjunctions celebrates the release of its spring issue, Conjunctions:70, Sanctuary: The Preservation Issue, with a reading by contributors Madeline Kearin, Maria Lioutaia, and Kyra Simone, and an introduction by longtime Conjunctions contributor Alexandra Kleeman, at KGB Bar (85 East 4th Street, NYC). Copies of the issue will be available for sale and signing. The event is 21+, with a 1–2 drink minimum; seating is first come, first served.

Madeline Kearin’s debut literary publication, “Fallout,” appeared in Conjunctions:67, Other Aliens, and her contribution to this issue, “Kirkbride,” is her second appearance in the journal. Maria Lioutaia’s contribution to the issue, “Potatoes,” marks her first appearance in print. Kyra Simone, whose work has been anthologized in Best American Experimental Writing, will read from “Palace of Rubble.” Her “Seven Stories from the Palace of Rubble” appeared in Conjunctions:56, Terra Incognita.

The literary journal Conjunctions, edited by novelist Bradford Morrow and published by Bard College, has been a living notebook for provocative, risk-taking, rigorously composed fiction, poetry, and narrative nonfiction since 1981. As PEN American Center has it: “Conjunctions is one of our most distinctive and valuable literary magazines: innovative, daring, indispensable, and beautiful.”

In addition to work by the readers, the Sanctuary issue includes contributions by Diane Ackerman, Heather Altfeld, Rae Armantrout, Mary Jo Bang, Mauro Javier Cardenas, J’Lyn Chapman, Julia Elliott, Andrew Ervin, William Gaddis, Peter Gizzi, Rae Gouirand, Robin Hemley, Troy Jollimore, Robert Karron, Marshall Klimasewiski, Byron Landry, Nam Le, Andrew Mossin, Debra Nystrom, Toby Olson, Peter Orner, Richard Powers, Jessica Reed, Donald Revell, Elizabeth Robinson, Joanna Ruocco, Erin Singer, Maya Sonenberg, Donna Stonecipher, Arthur Sze, S. P. Tenhoff, Daniel Torday, and Frederic Tuten.
 
ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Madeline Kearin is a writer and PhD candidate at Brown University. Her stories draw partly from her experience as an archaeologist working on historical sites in New York and New England. Her current project examines the construction and administration of insane asylums as therapeutic environments in the 19th century. Her first literary publication, “Fallout,” appeared in Conjunctions:67, Other Aliens.

Maria Lioutaia was born in Russia, grew up in Canada, and now lives in New York. She is an MFA candidate in creative writing at NYU, where she is a Goldwater Fellow. Her contribution to Conjunctions:70, Sanctuary: The Preservation Issue is her first appearance in print.

Kyra Simone is a writer and editor based in Brooklyn. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Conjunctions, the Atlas Review, Black Clock, the Brooklyn Rail, Little Star, Prelude, Vestiges, and the Best American Experimental Writing anthologyamong other journals. Originally from Los Angeles, she is a member of the editorial collective at Ugly Duckling Presse, and she works as an associate editor at Zone Books.

Alexandra Kleeman is a Staten Island-based writer of fiction and nonfiction, and the winner of the 2016 Bard Fiction Prize. Her work has received scholarships and grants from Bread Loaf, the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, Santa Fe Art Institute, and ArtFarm Nebraska. She is the author of the debut novel You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine and Intimations (both Harper), a short story collection.

Contact: Nicole Nyhan, [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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