• 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
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exhibitions
October 6 -28

Exhibition - Ugly Duckling Presse: 25th Anniversary Celebration

performances
October 18

Formations Series for New & Improvised Music

readings & workshops
October 20

Poetry Reading: Soham Patel and Lauren Russell 

readings & workshops
October 25

Poetry Reading: Urban Echo Poets + Open Mic

readings & workshops
October 28

Poetry Reading: Kathleen A. Dale, Louisa Loveridge Gallas, Judith Harway, and Bill Murtaugh

special events
November 17

We Exist to Prove the Living Artist: 38th Anniversary Gala

readings & workshops
November 30

Poetry Reading: Anna Vitale and Daniel Owen

film & video
December 14

Film Screening: Riverwest Film & Video by Emir Cakaroz

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.