Excited for tomorrow's eclipse? Read Rob Arnold (Rob Arnold)'s essay 'Great American Eclipse,' originally published in our print issue:

buff.ly/43LY1VD

#Eclipse #Eclipse 2024

I've definitely been shadowbanned for posting this

Ceasefire now!

Happy Easter, everyone.

I don't want to go down the paranoid conspiracy rabbit-hole, but the small press books SPD distributed are among other things voices of dissent. Fascism requires consolidation of media, limiting the discourse to approved texts that frame the conversation in certain ways.

richardhoffman.org/2024/03/28/int…

I love the way Julie Kane lights the fuse in the second word, luck, and then after the perfect portrayal of writerly vanity (and I ought to know) the explosion:

I have a little fable up at Vox Populi today: voxpopulisphere.com/2024/03/12/ric…

Are we to dismiss these comments? Shrug? Convince ourselves we are misunderstanding something very 'complicated?'
facebook.com/watch/?v=37443…

Well it looks like Jonathan M. Katz has caught Senator Katie Boyd Britt in a pretty significant lie.

I thought of this poem almost as many times this week as children died of starvation in Gaza richardhoffman.org/2024/03/06/i-t… via Richard Hoffman

Essayists: Every sentence we write is either true or not true. True?

This beauty from Theodore Deppe’s new collection Impossible Blackbird

RSVPs suggested interest exceeded capacity, so this event was moved. Note the new venue.

For a small fee I will go to your enemy's writing workshop and ask What's at risk in this poem?

Do you know that they are still showing on their TVs what happened in the first few hours of October 7?
We don’t exist before or after.

When we were reading The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank and Survival in Auschwitz by Primo Levi, we wished we could alleviate the pains of and end the horrors both Anne and Primo experienced long time ago.
How many Annes and Primos are there in Gaza? How many “we” are there…

Howl
Feb. 3, 2024

I’m howling, howling
in Cairo.
I jump off my chair. I hug
the closest thing to me,
the gray corner of my room,
my head glued to it like
a stamp so eager to travel.
Books on the shelf,
they listen to the whispers of my nose
as it smells the old paint,
as it…

TIMES OF GAZA They fettered his mouth with chains,
And tied his hands to the rock of the dead.
They said: You're a murderer.
They took his food, his clothes and his banners,
And threw him into the well of the dead.
They said: You're a thief.
They threw him out of every port,
And took…