He clasped the branches as if they were parts of human arms

by Ben Pease Art
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Golden Splinter

by Evan Hansen Art
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Above is painter Sean McElroy’s “So Just Be It.” I have known Sean a long time, and I admire both his art and intellect. I was reminded of his work yesterday as I settled down with Ben Lerner’s new book of poems, Mean Free Path (Copper Canyon Press, 2010)—a book I’ve been excited to read since, well, Lerner’s last book of poems.


by Adam Fitzgerald Art
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Slava Mogutin is an artist whose work has emerged from a confluence of cultures and histories. He works across different media—including photography, video, poetry, and performance—conjuring volatile erotic phenomena from these diverse orders of representation. By age twenty, Mogutin had achieved notoriety in post-Soviet Russia, breaching its criminal code on several counts in the course of his radical investment in writing and publishing queer literature. This early literary ingenuity established his reputation as a sexual dissident, culminating in his well-publicized exile and the subsequent granting of political asylum in the United States in 1995.

Nothing to say

by Stuart Krimko Art
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I have nothing to say today, or nothing specific, only miscellany, no fashion thing has occurred to me. Here you have an image of Ferula scorodosma, the plant whose dried sap is used to make asafoetida, a rather pungent spice.

Tiepolo’s Punchinello!—If you don’t know him, you should

by Simone Kearney Art
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The Lyric Workshop, Session 1: Theme From Shaft

by Sarah V. Schweig Academia
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PROFESSOR: Mary Ann, would you mind reading your poem aloud so that we can hear it in your own voice?

MARY ANN: Absolutely. Ahem.

Who’s the black private dick
That’s a sex machine to all the chicks?
Ya damn right!

Google Uses Wittgenstein

by Micah Towery Art
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Canada, it’s spring-break time. We’ve already got trees budding. Actually, many schools have gotten the whole Winter Olympics off for two or three weeks of extended spring break drunkenness. I’ve been glued to CTV for the last week or so, watching my new favorite sport: curling. No joke, this game is intense.

Emily Dickinson 260

by Bianca Stone Art
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Keats Revisited: “It’s Not a Well-Wrought Urn, it’s a Well of Ashes and Wine”

by Adam Fitzgerald Academia
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That urn is cold. I find it strange that several poets and scholars speak of the beauty-truth equation as the last lines of the poem. That equation has called forth so much fuss – its bald assertiveness is immensely persuasive at first hearing, then almost instantly the mind rebels against the symmetry of identity.

Spam Folder Amateur Gemology

by Evan Hansen Academia
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Says that the Russians once anchored here and hunted sea-otter before the first Yankee trader rounded the Horn, or the first Rocky Mountain trapper thirsted across the “Great American Desert” and trickled down the snowy Sierras to the sun-kissed land. No; we are not resting our horses here on Humboldt Bay.

Some Books on My Mind, or {Potential} Purchases of Imperishables

by Adam Fitzgerald Art
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Hands up, anyone who has read the whole of Herodotus and the whole of Thucydides! And Saint-Simon? And Cardinal de Retz? But even the great nineteenth-century cycles of novels are more often talked about than read.

a brief and not recent internet roundup

by Sasha Fletcher Art

so i was talking with adam and decided that i would start doing this. sooner or later these will consist of new work published in online journals i like, but i figured right now i would just put the links to a bunch of pieces up and say a few words about them


by Allison Power Art
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“Isn’t it a heavenly spot to live in!” cried Grace. “Have a dill pickle.” The studio was divided in two—the rear half was the work space of her friend Alfred Leslie, who soon made his appearance.

Fashion Correspondent: Rodarte

by Stuart Krimko Art

We all have fantasy careers. I’ve always thought it would be great to be an Off-Broadway actor. I would invite my cohorts over to my Hell’s Kitchen apartment after a weeknight show, and we would drink Powers whisky and smoke cigarettes until the wee hours; mornings would be slow, slightly hazy…

Scene from Alice in Wonderland by Jan Svankmajer

by Simone Kearney Art

A clip from the terrifying Czech version of Alice in Wonderland.


by Joe Weil Art

On fourth of July, alone in my kitchen and the sound of distant fireworks. I drink cheap Merlot, watch the dark break and enter through the windows. I am all over the Internet, but would rather be all over someone else: a tangent. A tanager. Today, by the river I saw a scarlet tanager. Had […]

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