poetry
When poets and visual artists work together, they negotiate a shared language.
Asking peopleWhat happens to them after they dieIs like asking babies in the wombWhat happens to them After they’re born—How can they answerWhen they don’t even know
the laser brush we watchedburn soot off the gownof an ancient kore
the Delphic light, siftedthrough the nets of the godsto fall on us
An Eau Claire poet's wry take on life, death, and love.
Karla Huston dishes on poetic process and plans for her new position: Wisconsin Poet Laureate.
a cold wet compress to her foreheada brisk rub and warm breath on her pale little handsa shiver her eyes blink twice then openspring comes around slowly
Yesterday morning I’m pretty sure it was yesterdayI started walking along the beach toward someone whowould meet me at my destination. Where it was orwho it was I can’t remember off the top of my head.
Cancer is not a ringing bell,a queen of spades. Cancer is notyour mother’s hand-me-down, strung likepearls along the lymph nodes,smoky quartz clustered in the caving lung,
I’m sitting on a park bench noodling linesfrom a Billy Stayhorn song, Somethingto Live For, “watching the noon crowds,”when a woman bumps me with her hip.“How are you,” she asks, and I choke
Mom said, Kiss her hand.I didn’t want to kiss my teacher;especially not on the bulginggreen vein of her thin hands.I think she had red hair. She waskind. She sent a memo home:
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Wisconsin Academy Offices
1922 University Avenue
Madison, Wisconsin 53726
Phone: 608.733.6633
James Watrous Gallery
3rd Floor, Overture Center for the Arts
201 State Street
Madison, WI 53703
Phone: 608.733.6633 x25