• 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 6 - Jun 27

Book Club: Readshops led by Karl Gartung

readings & workshops
July 3 - Jun 30

Dhamma MKE

readings & workshops
October 22 - Jun 24

Welcome Home!: A Veterans Writing Group

readings & workshops
February 2 -23

Three Windows into Writing and Revising a Poem with Kathleen A. Dale

February 11 - Apr 5

Tarot: The (Re)Making of a Language

February 20

Formations Series for New and Improvised Music

readings & workshops
February 26

Poetry Reading: Jennifer Elise Foerster + Zoë Johnson

readings & workshops
February 26

Seeing in Invisibility: Poetry as revelation at UWM Libraries Special Collections

readings & workshops
February 27

Urban Echo Poets

readings & workshops
February 29

Visionary Narratives: A Workshop in Drawing Inspiration with Laurence Ross.

February 29

Reception for Tarot: The (Re)Making of a Language

readings & workshops
March 1 -29

On the Front Lines, Behind the Lines: Writing Protest Poetry with Margaret Rozga.

film & video
March 6

aCinema Screening

readings & workshops
March 12

Creative Confluence: Research for Hybrid Writing, a conversation with Heid E. Erdrich

readings & workshops
March 12

Poetry Reading: Heid E. Erdrich

readings & workshops
March 14

Poetry & Pi(e) featuring Vida Cross + Chuck Stebelton

March 19

Formations Series for New and Improvised Music

readings & workshops
March 20

Poetry Reading: Mark Bibbins + Elizabeth Hoover

readings & workshops
March 26

Poetry Reading: Eli Goldblatt + Charles Alexander

readings & workshops
March 28

Poetry Reading: Tara Betts + Jennifer Steele

Archived readings & workshops
Jan 17 Saturday, January 17
7:00pm, $Give What You Can

Woodland Pattern Book Center is happy to present Shift: Guest Curators from the LGBTQ Community, a series of readings, performances, and exhibitions curated by local artists and focused on sex and gender diversity in the contemporary arts.


Trish Salah is Assistant Professor of Women’s and Gender Studies at the University of Winnipeg. Her current research, funded by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada’s Insight Grant, investigates the emergence of Transgender and Transsexual Minority Literatures. In 2014 she co-organized and hosted, Writing Trans Genres: Emergent Literatures and Criticism, a 3-day conference on Trans and Two Spirit Literatures and co-edited the fourth issue of TSQ: Transgender Studies Quarterly, focused on Trans Cultural Production. She is the author of the Lambda award winning poetry book, Wanting In Arabic (TSAR 2002, 2nd edition 2013) and of Lyric Sexology: Volume I (Roof Books 2014). Currently she is working on a book of essays on trans literatures, and a novel.

          Tiresias, impersonated.


          Impersonation doesn’t mean what you think. This is the introduction to this book, my introduction, my lyrical sexology.                 Lyric Sexology. This is one of the things you need to get straight. This is another, you there in your later age, your so

          called 21st century:

          I am not a transsexual. Or an intersexual, or a hermaphrodite. (Hermaphroditus can write her own damn book.) I am not

          any of those things you have words for now. You don’t have words for what I am. What I was was this:

          I was a dude.

         Then I was a chick.

         Then I was a dude again.

         Hah. You didn’t think we said “dude” or “chick” in what you call ancient Greece, Hellenes, etc. Think again.

         Here is what you don’t have words for: What is a seer? What is beyond knowing? How can I write you now, a now

         impossibly out of joint with your own, knowing you will read this? Knowing you? Or what is a sex in time? Without?

         You do not have a word for snakes or gods or sexes. You only think you do.

         You do not have a word for the meeting of snake sex god in one word’s divided knowing, a knowing one divided word.

         Seven years is what I was as beyond, a beyond, and inside too. So, impersonation doesn’t begin to describe it, but

         suppose it did. Suppose I began to describe you.


                                        —Trish Salah, from Lyric Sexology


Oliver Bendorf is a teaching artist and writer. His book of poems, The Spectral Wilderness (Kent State UP), won the 2013 Wick Poetry Prize. His poetry, comics, and essays can be found in Alaska Quarterly Review, Best New Poets, Buzzfeed, Indiana Review, Original Plumbing, The Rumpus, Troubling the Line: Trans and Genderqueer Poetry and Poetics, and elsewhere, and he has received fellowships from the Lambda Literary Foundation, University of Wisconsin-Madison, and the Sitka Center for Art and Ecology. He lives in Madison, Wisconsin, where he teaches, reads about, and makes animation, poetry, color, comics, gender, ghosts, and zines.

          I KNOWABLE,


                    I dadaist. Youthfully I a woman. O hello, it’s justified. I thicker thawed, I

          worry. How we invent arenas of alternative myth-makeups, telegraphing each hello. Sense me to the sledges. I’d        

          likelihood a criticism of scissoring imaginary. I have theorem. XO etching. Sometimes in early session, X sayings why he

          abodes a monster. “Whelp I’ve always washes, I’d takings theoretic apace just to surplus. I kneecap, I howling

          worshipful.” Dear butterfat, I am intrinsic. Ares we operate in a modify of quenches, or in a modesto of answering? Since

          I’m nothing on T, I thought it be hardworking, be intrinsically transfer, butchery thermodynamic I waste in it, fuschia it, I’m

          justice does it. I do not frighten lover wholeheartedly. My compliments generator does not call me “failure” anymore.

          Fellatio readjusted. Playmates panicking. We mate in transgression. We travel aloha curiousest. People be silently or

          considerably diehard, differently kindled and roundly erotic. Telegraphic me it’s OK. You everyday survivor. Thankless

          and thirsty. How to be holy is centaur to thermostat of lovers. We aloft, we cannonball. Saintly I sail our makeup sadder.

          When we got homemade, youngly dreamt a onetime light. Sagittarius, can you hearing me. Let’s not name our futuristic

          dogtown. Lettings do a photocopy proximate of our own self bounced. Lasted nightcaps I dreams somewhat

          predominantly about you. I was evicted for howling. They transcribed of my life and I wordy “hope” 8 times. My bin

          beckons. Want a braves lesson, a neater quiver, makeshift me therapeutic. That rocket on theoretical leftover. Thereafter

          drafty. Thereabouts snowy. Then rain. We narrate our almanacs. Welcome, youngly tappers, be haphazard and

          un(h)armed. Here is my selfsame-porridge.


                                         —Oliver Bendorf


Guest curator Ching-In Chen is author of The Heart's Traffic and co-editor of The Revolution Starts at Home: Confronting Intimate Violence Within Activist Communities. A Kundiman, Lambda and Callaloo Fellow, they are part of Macondo and Voices of Our Nations Arts Foundation writing communities, and was a participant in Sharon Bridgforth's Theatrical Jazz Institute. They have been awarded fellowships and residencies from Soul Mountain Retreat, Ragdale Foundation, Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, Millay Colony, and the Norman Mailer Center. In Milwaukee, they are cream city review's editor-in-chief, senior editor of The Conversant, and serve on the Wisconsin Poet Laureate Commission. www.chinginchen.com.