• 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
readings & workshops
April 10

Virtual Poetry Reading: Marilyn Chin

film & video
April 17

Virtual Film Screening: The Collection

readings & workshops
April 19 - May 10

Intergenerational Self-Collaboration: A Multi-Arts Workshop with Paul McComas

readings & workshops
April 24

Virtual Poetry Reading: Krystal Languell + Jennifer Nelson + Ae Hee Lee

film & video
April 25

Virtual Film Screening: Immortal Cupboard: In Search of Lorine Niedecker 

readings & workshops
April 29

Virtual Poetry Reading: Raquel Salas Rivera + Lara Mimosa Montes

Archived readings & workshops
May 8 Friday, May 8
7:00pm, $Give What You Can


Join us to celebrate the release of Roberto Harrison's bicycle (Noemi Press, 2015) and Eric Elshtain's This Thin Memory, A-ha (Verge Books, 2015). 

 Roberto Harrison is the author of the poetry collections Os (subpress, 2006), Counter Daemons (Litmus  Press, 2006), bicycle (Noemi Press, 2015), culebra (Green Lantern Press, forthcoming 2015), Bridge of the  World (Litmus Press, forthcoming 2017), as well as of many poetry chapbooks. With Andrew Levy he edited  Crayon magazine from 1997 to 2008. He edits the Bronze Skull Press chapbook series and is also a visual  artist. Check out more of Roberto Harrison's poetry on the Woodland Pattern blog



A book of transformation, Roberto Harrison’s bicycle proposes the incredible two-wheeled  velocipede as the newest vehicle of enlightenment. The lines of the verse are spokes, the stanzas the strokes of the thighs as they peddle through a recurrent but new teaching. At once subtle and earnest, bicycle is magically perceptive and gentle and wise. There is nothing else like it. Harrison is a master.

                                                                                                                                                 -Peter O'Leary

Eric Elshtain is a homemaker and teaching poet whose poetry, reviews, and interviews can be found in McSweeney's, Skanky Possum, Notre Dame Review, Ploughshares, American Letters & Commentary, Denver Quarterly, Chicago Review, Fact-Simile, and other print and on-line journals. The author of several chapbooks including The Cheaper the Crook, the Gaudier the Patter  (Transparent Tiger Press, 2004) and Here in Premonition (RubbaDucky, 2006), Elshtain has a full-length book of poetry, This Thin Memory A-ha from Verge Books. He is also the editor of Jon Trowbridge's on-line Beard of Bees Press.


Through the non-profit arts education organization Snow City Arts, he is the poet-in-residence at John H. Stroger, Jr. Hospital of Cook County and Univerisy of Illinois Children’s Hospitals where he conducts poetry and art workshops with patients ranging in age from six to 21. He also teaches literature at Ascension Catholic School in Oak Park, Illinois and the Better Boys Foundation in the North Lawndale neighborhood of Chicago. He received his doctorate from the University of Chicago, writing a dissertation about the relationship between poetry and speculative science in the 18th and 19th centuries.


This Thin Memory A-ha is a singular, sonically, and rhythmically rich book of poems. Its imperatives—‘keep teeth inside a hailstone; / howl spirals into little deserts / or hypnotize what has fallen / into your hands’—challenge us to re-envision and experience our world, where we must ‘take this light / under which we have nothing not to see.

                                                                                                                                                     -Arthur Sze


eat white


idiot moon

I vacillate


with fevers

and fear


and no one hears

my engine





all art

is gone


for the penetrative



more rocks

for the feet


of the fern.

we migrate


to touch

the apostles


of nature

with their removed



and a worn door



by numbers


          -Roberto Harrison




Fifth Last Word  


            (John 19:28)


I’ve sinned sense to slow gold

soaking turns love took


so a king could scoff at prophets,

lost sabbaths I gived no cloven huff to.


Larceners hung on either side of the Christ

you psalm are out-ranged by a mother’s


measure—a woman waking desert’s ands

and rock’s rent body’s crave to be hyssop held up


and stayed against a bare record.  It’s song

from then on and palm fronds


wrung for centurions overturned by thunder

tumbling lances from who just thirsted.


          -Eric Elshtain