• 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

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

Michael O'Leary

Michael O'Leary is the co-editor of Flood Editions and he works as a structural engineer in Chicago.

Selected Poems

Politics


Michael O'Leary

 

I watched the polls as breathlessly
as Deadwood, dedicating hours
at work to downticks in the South

and found an article online
on survey weight and sample size
which led to Leibniz's response

to a Bernoulli on whether
the likelihood of early death
can be inferred from death tolls past:

Nature's habit is patterned on
the repetition of events,
but only for the most part.

Like anybody, I was moved
by the long odds of the campaign,
the painful progress, how his dad

abandoned him for his career
and especially when Rev. Wright
spoke at the National Press Club.

A week before election day
I saw a picture of a sad
Obama walking down the street

in Honolulu—slight haze of
pollution in the humid air,
palm trees unmoving, cars unmoved,

the dark apartment tower where
his grandmother lay dying now—
now at the pivot of relief

and grief that there is nowhere left
to go and no one to turn to,
the habit of reflection split

in two by revelation that
entropy is another name
for what is otherwise unsaid.