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  • 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
Dec 9 Friday, December 9
7:00pm, $Give What You Can


Anne Boyer is a poet and essayist whose books include The Romance of Happy Workers, My Common Heart, and the 2016 CLMP Firecracker award-winning Garments Against Women which Maureen McLane described in The New York Times as “a sad, beautiful, passionate book that registers the political economy of literature and of life itself.” Boyer’s work has been translated into a number of languages including Icelandic, Spanish, Persian, and Swedish, and in the spring of 2013, her chapbook, A Form of Sabotage, was published by the theory collective Kült Neşriyat in Turkish translation.  Boyer’s other chapbooks include Anne Boyer’s Good Apocalypse, Art is War, and The 2000s. With Guillermo Parra and Cassandra Gillig, she has translated the work of 20th century Venezuelan poets Victor Valera Mora, Miguel James, and Miyo Vestrini. With K. Silem Mohammad, she was a founding editor of the poetry journal, Abraham Lincoln.  Boyer is a professor at the Kansas City Art Institute, a four year college of Art and Design, where she teaches writing, literature, and theory in the school of the Liberal Arts. She lives in Kansas City, Missouri.


Juliet Patterson's The Truant Lover was winner of the first Nightboat Books Prize. Her most recent collection of poems, Threnody, is just out from Nightboat Books. Her poems and essays have appeared widely in numerous magazines. Her recent awards include the Arts & Letters Susan Atefat Prize in Non-fiction, the Lynda Hull Memorial Poetry Prize, and a Jerome Foundation fellowship. Two long sequences—one poetry and one prose—are available as chapbooks, Epilogue (Spout Press) and Dirge (Albion Books). Her most recent writing project, a memoir in progress, entitled Sinkhole, has been supported through a Minnesota State Arts Board grant and a Minnesota Emerging Writers grant. She lives in Minneapolis on the west bank of the Mississippi near the Great River Road.


At Least Two Types of People


There are  at  least two  types of people,  the  first for  whom the  ordinary 
worldliness is easy.  The  regular  social routines  and  material  cares  are 
nothing too external to them and easily absorbed. They are not alien from
the  creation  and  maintenance of the world, and the world does not treat
them  as  alien. And also, from  them, the efforts  toward the world, and to 
them,  the  fulfillment  of the  world's  moderate desires, flow. They are ef-
fortless at eating, moving, arranging their arms as they sit or stand,  being
hired, being paid, cleaning up,  spending, playing, mating.  They are in an
ease and comfort. The world is for the world and for them.

Then there are those over whom the events and opportunities of the every-
day  world wash  over.  There  is  rarely,  in this  second type, any easy kind 
of absorption.  There  is only  a  visible  evidence  of having  been made of a 
different  substance,  one that  repels.  Also, from them,  it is almost impos-
sible  to  give  to  the  world  what  it will  welcome or reward. For how does
this  second  type  hold  their arms?  Across their chest? Behind their back? 
And  how  do  they  find  food  to eat  and  then prepare this food? And how 
do  they  receive  a  check or endorse it? And what also of the difficulties of
love  or  being loved, its  expansiveness,  the way it is used for markets and 
indentured moods?

And what is this  second  substance?  And how does it come  to have as one
of  its  qualities  the  resistance of the world  as it is?  And also,  what is  the 
person  made  of  the  second  substance?   Is this a  human or more or  less 
than one? Where is the true impermeable community of the second human
whose  arms  do  not  easily  arrange  themselves and for whom the salaries 
and  weddings  and  garages do not come?

These are, perhaps, not two sorts of persons, but two kinds of fortune. The
first is soft and regular. The second is a baffled kind, and magnetic only  to 
the second substance, and made itself out of a different, second, substance,
and having, at its end, a second, and almost blank-faced, reward.

—Anne Boyer, from Garments Against Women (Ahsahta Press, 2015)




There were wars going on—


we were lying there


in the constant singing

of radios



a scant defense 


reading our hands


as an eye going



a house strictured

in rain


and August





Tourists, again


we're told it's a terror

of partly knowing


in all manner 



and shapes


buds in the palm, say

or the red of two


mouths: marked by monuments


to an earlier idea


and stopped by nothing





Nights' flagellum: contact



shardsealed fields, 



Upended, rice

edge of a house


by its scent, rubber

and dust


to your left


down avenues where one

cannot speak. 




What war?

We never heard. 


Outside, the river's broken



faster, fast


and hewn, white

the sun


sprays of vegetation


your hand gathers

and the rain


you guess this time, 

it's God. 


—Juliet Patterson, from Threnody (Nightboat Books, 2016)