We make interactive digital books, artist's books, and letterpress books. We make broadsides. We make video poems. We make animations. We begin with the text.
We open the back pages of Archipelago, our old quarterly journal. Writing that stays new.
The stories say that from the First Beginning the animals talked among themselves and to the humans. They formed partnerships with each other. They called the humans the Campfire People. . .
Andraž and Tomaž Šalamun Andraž and Tomaž Šalamun, sitting in green armchairs, two awesome salesmen from the least. (I meant to write from the east, but mistyped.) He with his madness, I with my Christ. Both of us stare at the smoke. Yeah, I fuck his brain. He loves my cries. (I meant to write […]
The poet Samuel Menash died a little more than three years ago, on August 26, 2011. I hadn’t seen him in a while. We were introduced at a writers’ party on the Upper West Side and discovered our mutual interest in Hubert Butler.
I don’t think we ought to forget him, or what happened in 1955 near Money, Mississippi, when two white men beat the 14-year old Emmett Till to death for verbally insulting (as they saw it) a white woman. A boy who found himself in the wrong neighborhood.