• 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
March 18 - Apr 3

Closed but Open (Here’s How)! 

Books + Events + More

readings & workshops
April 4

Virtual Poetry Reading: Mónica de la Torre + José Felipe Alvergue

readings & workshops
April 4

Virtual Workshop with Mónica de la Torre

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

Ed Friedman

Ed Friedman is the author of nine books of poetry and prose, including The Telephone Book; Humans Work; Mao & Matisse; and Drive Through the Blue Cylinders. He has collaborated frequently with visual artists Robert Kushner (The New York Hat Line and Away) and Kim MacConnel (La Frontera and Lingomats). Friedman has given readings and performances in venues such as The Museum of Modern Art, The Kitchen, and The Public Theater. For 16 years (1987-2003) he was the Artistic Director of the Poetry Project at St. Mark's Church in NYC. He lives with his wife and 13-year-old son.

Selected Poems

Moisten, Dry

Ed Friedman


Meanwhile we collect postcards. A camel in the late afternoon sun looks over

its left shoulder towards the Pyramids of Gizeh. Then we're underwater with

spotted eel for some solid moments of floating this way and that. Swans

above us on moonlit rivers are ours for as long as we visualize them. When

we get home and apply our new-found imagination to the rigors of every day,

it will be no trouble to replace lightbulbs and governments, housing tracts and

vegetable gardens. Once Sheila the Moth landed on a bamboo stalk to peer at

the night sky and stayed there until she was a dried husk. Books fill with

stories like these. Aquariums house the lives of swooping angelfish.

from Drive Through the Blue Cylinders