• 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
August 25 - Oct 1

Exhibition: Vicki, with an i, organized by Michelle Grabner

performances
September 21

Formations presents Steve Nelson-Raney & Binder-Mollerskov-Schlei-Westfahl

film & video
September 22

aCinema: // In Silence Arrives the Tempest // Waiting on Paradise //

exhibitions
September 23 -23

Reception: Vicki with an i, organized by Michelle Grabner

readings & workshops
September 28

Poetry Reading: Stacy Blint, Rebecca Eland & Mark Tardi

readings & workshops
September 30

100 Thousand Poets for Change MKE

readings & workshops
October 5

Poetry Reading: Feliz Lucia Molina

exhibitions
October 11

Exhibition: Jen Bervin, Tactile Lanuguage

readings & workshops
October 12

Offsite Event: Justice for All: Selected Writings of Lloyd A. Barbee

readings & workshops
October 13

Poetry Reading: Caitlin Scarano, Paula Carter & Freesia McKee

performances
October 22

Alternating Currents Live: Tom Rainey & Devin Drobka Percussion Duo

readings & workshops
October 26

Urban Echo Poets

special events
November 3

Join us on Friday, November 3rd for our 37th Annual Anniversary Gala!

 

readings & workshops
November 8

Poetry Reading: Matt Cook

Jeff Clark

Jeff Clark was born in southern California in 1971. He went to Iowa for poetry, then moved to San Francisco and Oakland. Clark currently does book design as Quemadura, after eleven years with Oakland design studio Wilsted & Taylor. His own books areThe Little Door Slides Back (Sun and Moon, 1997; reprint FSG, 2004), Music and Suicide (FSG, 2004), and 2A(Quemadura, 2006), written in collaboration with Geoffrey G. O'Brien. He lives in Ypsilanti, Michigan, with his partner, the poet Christine Hume, and their daughter, Juna Hume Clark.

Selected Poems

Decomposition


Jeff Clark

 

Something in the force of my address
made you restless
I wrote it down and you wrote back
Something near the middle
of that writing felt like fire
but why not abundant warmth
Let me look at the end, at an enemy again
Somewhere in the flesh of my head
was a desire for my death
Death you said is a rhyme for my name
A rhyme made almost real
by what I've heard you've said
Words for others—not mine for us
or yours—can be murderous
In the poem you arrange them well
But what's to be done about untrue lines
is to let them lie