• 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
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special events
April 21

Join us for the 13th annual RIVERWEST FOLLIES variety show

performances
April 22

ACL presents Renee Baker Quartet, Visual Dark Scratch Suite

exhibitions
April 22

Woman: Frailty Thy Name, works by Renee Baker

readings & workshops
April 25

Reading: Toni Jensen

readings & workshops
April 26

Four Milwaukee Poets: Alix Anne Shaw with Annie Grizzle, Sam Pekarske & Bethany Price

readings & workshops
April 28

Wisconsin Reads: Reading with Louise Erdrich (video streamed to Woodland Pattern)

readings & workshops
May 2

Poetry Reading: Rena Priest and Denise Low

readings & workshops
May 2

Craft Talk with Denise Low at UWM

readings & workshops
May 10

Birds in Poetry at Urban Ecology Center

performances
May 13

Alternating Currents Live presents: The Transatlantic Bridge #11

readings & workshops
May 16

Kundiman Midwest Chapbook Series Noel Pabillo Mariano

performances
May 17

Formations Series for New & Improvised Music

readings & workshops
May 24

Poetry Reading: Urban Echo Poets

performances
June 3

ACL presents: Tom Hamilton & City of Vorticity

Jared Stanley

Jared Stanley is the author of Book Made of Forest, which won Salt Publishing's Crashaw Prize in 2008. He also wrote the chapbooksThe Outer Bay (Trafficker Press), I Something Scott Inguito You(Scantily Clad Press) and co-wrote In Fortune (Dusie Kollectiv). His poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Mary,Realpoetik, and Likestarlings. With Lauren Levin and Catherine Meng, he edits the annual magazine Mrs. Maybe. He was born in Maricopa County, Arizona, raised in Alameda County, California, and currently lives in Merced County, California, where he teaches at the University of California, Merced.

Selected Poems

Just Like Poor Tom's Hair


Jared Stanley

 

Arcadia
you have a moon
that you are made of

moon grey
and copse-color
a far gauze
        lunaire, lunaire
motley with skin gleams
mere in its shitfulness

like Poor Tom's hair
a bric-a-brac attempt
a glint

to hide or rest
in the undergrowth.

White flag or heal-all,
you send me
kisses made of no

because I'm made of money
and don't care what the night is for
in the capacious branch shadows.

A figured owl in the teeth
of mama nature's last laugh.

Moon,
you can't win.
You're wallpaper,
a head on the ramparts,
or a compass of hinges
in a city's sky.

Free, free, free—
we are made of fire
and you are
made of cheese.