• Address 720 East Locust Street | Milwaukee, WI 53212
  • Phone 414.263.5001
  • Hours Tue-Fri 11-8pm | Sat-Sun 12-5pm | Closed Mon
  • Hours Tue-Fri 11-8pm, Sat-Sun 12-5pm, Closed Mon
Event Calendar
«
»
special events
June 18 -22

Summer Youth Poetry Camp!

performances
June 21

Formations Series for New & Improvised Music

special events
June 25 -29

Summer Youth Poetry Camp!

readings & workshops
June 28

Poetry Reading: Elisa Karbin & Jessica L. Walsh

readings & workshops
July 10

Offsite Reading: Poetry in the Park at Juneau Park

readings & workshops
July 12

Poetry Reading: Ed Werstein & Sylvia Cavanaugh

readings & workshops
July 14

Genre: Urban Arts Reading

readings & workshops
July 18

Book Launch: Still Waters Collective, Runs Deep anthology

performances
July 19

Formations Series for New & Improvised Music

July 30 - Aug 10

Woodland Pattern Annual Inventory - STORE CLOSED

readings & workshops
August 14

Offsite Reading: Poetry in the Park - Juneau Park

performances
August 16

Formations Series for New & Improvised Music

Jared Stanley

Jared Stanley is the author of Book Made of Forest, which won Salt Publishing's Crashaw Prize in 2008. He also wrote the chapbooksThe Outer Bay (Trafficker Press), I Something Scott Inguito You(Scantily Clad Press) and co-wrote In Fortune (Dusie Kollectiv). His poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Mary,Realpoetik, and Likestarlings. With Lauren Levin and Catherine Meng, he edits the annual magazine Mrs. Maybe. He was born in Maricopa County, Arizona, raised in Alameda County, California, and currently lives in Merced County, California, where he teaches at the University of California, Merced.

Selected Poems

Just Like Poor Tom's Hair


Jared Stanley

 

Arcadia
you have a moon
that you are made of

moon grey
and copse-color
a far gauze
        lunaire, lunaire
motley with skin gleams
mere in its shitfulness

like Poor Tom's hair
a bric-a-brac attempt
a glint

to hide or rest
in the undergrowth.

White flag or heal-all,
you send me
kisses made of no

because I'm made of money
and don't care what the night is for
in the capacious branch shadows.

A figured owl in the teeth
of mama nature's last laugh.

Moon,
you can't win.
You're wallpaper,
a head on the ramparts,
or a compass of hinges
in a city's sky.

Free, free, free—
we are made of fire
and you are
made of cheese.