• 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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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

exhibitions
February 11 - Apr 5

Tarot: The (Re)Making of a Language

readings & workshops
February 27

Urban Echo Poets

readings & workshops
February 29

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

exhibitions
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

performances
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

Zach Savich

Zach Savich is the author of three books of poetry, Full Catastrophe Living (2009),Annulments (2010), and The Firestorm(2011), as well as a book of lyric prose,Events Film Cannot Withstand (2011). He has won the Iowa Poetry Prize, the Colorado Prize for Poetry, the Omnidawn Chapbook Prize, and the CSU Poetry Center's Open Competition. He serves as book review editor with the Kenyon Review.

Selected Poems

Sufficiency

Zach Savich

 

Things being increasingly maintenance, leaf
the color of distressed tin, the flanneling
of leaves, so the day is window-shopping us. Each shadow is
a mirror turned to the wall, no, the wax
seal of unsent correspondences. I washed
my bandaged hand and felt the bandage swell,
as a dog brushed the
wrong way, which was circling the lake again,
its empty white smears and acorn caps. Things being increasingly
maintenance, my life
of porches and discarded sunglass stones, distant
chanting, a small dog in
the pitcher plants, like a painter's brush in a clear glass. They dub
even the screams, these days of disinheritance
and nearness, which is all maintaining is—
the bird that burns its nest for love of heat, have I shown you that
enough? It pecks at the construction webbing
with a beak someone's soldered a blue toy soldier to