News and Events

See all News and Events

Conjunctions:77, States of Play Launch Reading
An evening with Anelise Chen, Shelley Jackson, Arthur Sze, Tracie Morris, and Charles Bernstein
Friday, January 21, 2022
8:00 pm – 9:00 pm EST/GMT-5
Online Event
 [Conjunctions:77, States of Play Launch Reading] Please join us for the online launch of Conjunctions:77, States of Play! Hosted by Elliott Bay Book Company, the evening will feature readings by Anelise Chen, Shelley Jackson, Arthur Sze, and Tracie Morris and Charles Bernstein, with an introduction by Contributing Editor Brian Evenson. Click here to register!

Featured Authors

Charles Bernstein is the author of Topsy-Turvy and Pitch of Poetry (both University of Chicago Press). In 2019, he was awarded the prestigious Bollingen Prize for Poetry. With Tracie Morris, Bernstein co-edited Best American Experimental Writing 2016 (Wesleyan University Press).

Anelise Chen's first book, So Many Olympic Exertions, came out with Kaya Press in 2017. She teaches writing at Columbia University.

Brian Evenson (Contributing Editor) is the author of over a dozen books of fiction, most recently the story collection The Glassy Burning Floor of Hell (Coffee House Press). His work has won the World Fantasy and Shirley Jackson Awards, and he has been a finalist for the Edgar Award and the Ray Bradbury Award.

Shelley Jackson is the author of Riddance (Black Balloon), Half Life (HarperCollins), The Melancholy of Anatomy (Anchor), hypertexts including Patchwork Girl (Eastgate Systems), and several children’s books, including The Old Woman and the Wave (DK) and Mimi’s Dada Catifesto (Clarion Books). She is known for her cross-genre experiments, most notably SKIN, a story published in tattoos on 2,095 volunteers.

Tracie Morris's recent books include the forthcoming titles handholding: on the other hand (Kore Press), human/nature poems (Litmus Press), Who Do With Words (expanded edition, Chax Press) and Hard Korè: Poems of Mythos and Place (Joca Seria Press).

Arthur Sze received the 2021 Shelley Memorial Award from the Poetry Society of America. His newest book is The Glass Constellation: New and Collected Poems (Copper Canyon).

About the Issue
Published by Bard College in fall 2021, this kaleidoscopic issue on games, gambles, and gambits features new fiction, poetry, essays, and cross-genre work by Ranjit Hoskote, Joanna Scott, Shelley Jackson, John Darcy, Heather Altfeld, James Morrow, Kyoko Mori, Charles Bernstein& Tracie Morris, Catherine Imbriglio, Pierre Reverdy, David Shields, Robin Hemley, Joyce Carol Oates, Nathaniel Mackey, Anelise Chen, S.P. Tenhoff, Lowry Pressly, Cole Swensen, Rae Armantrout, Lucas Southworth, Kelsey Peterson, Arthur Sze, John Dimitroff, Alyssa Pelish, Nam Le, Tim Raymond, Justin Noga, Kate Colby, and Brian Evenson.

Connect

e-mail
Submissions

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.
advertisement