File this under epic sonic memories: the moment I heard “Black Steel” from Tricky’s Maxinquaye album. I was living as a nomad in the states after starting a modeling career…

Christine Kelly owns and manages an independent bookstore in Reno, Nevada. Since 2003, she has been running  Baobab Press from the attic of that store. I’ve learned a tremendous amount…

  My mother ate with her hands. She devoured Shorshe ilish: fish doused in mustard oil and turmeric, the mustard sharp in the nose, the taste bitter and salty, spicy…

Poetry from Paige Taggart   Horses Are High Tonight she tires under spell What wave Tired and bathed in that liberating light It’s so ridiculous the way beauty shoots off…

I could have bought my own copy of James Agee’s Let Us Now Praise Famous Men in the past eight years—whenever I’m in a bookstore I head straight for the…

This month we had a tough choice between two poems by dis•articulations readers in response to the prompts posted by Eric Howard and myself. Ultimately, we chose Bryan Marshall’s “Caged”…

By Julia Dauer Photograph courtesy Julia Dauer My mother got my name from a movie. Julia came out in 1977, eleven years before I was born. It starred Vanessa Redgrave…

[Image Credit: “Sueño” by Patricia Gonzalez] He kind of liked the fuzz. It felt like a blooming in his head. The slow, dull growth of life liberating itself from soil. Except…

While I can admire perfection, not only can I not achieve it, but it isn’t something I can engage with. The perfect poem or piece of art is on a pedestal. I am interested in text and art that rolls around in the dirt and plays.

Method: —highlight entire Wikipedia article —copy and paste to Word document —move through entire text erasing what I want to —the fragments I keep must be put in angle quotes…

  Poems excerpted from the album of fences forthcoming in spring 2018 from Cardboard House Press, translations by José Antonio Villarán   6. They sent don Marcos and I to…

I am the oldest daughter of Juanita Joanne Mitchell. She was 19 when she met my father, Robert. Twenty when she married him and had me. My mother was the…

I gave four prompts to collaborating poet Eric Howard. He conducted three minutes of “fevered writing” with each prompt. Here are the results. These words comprise the lexicon I’ll use to…

Photo Credit: Max Lovy   It was raining the morning of October 6, 1973—the day before my eighth birthday, and the day of the Yom Kippur War—so they put a…