lewis

LOW MASS

Prophets Four Profits presents: LOW MASS Pt 2 A reading with: Chelsea Coreen Sean Mega Desvignes Zev Gottdiener Lindsay Young Hosted by Tom Charles Bair III Sunday, 3 July at 8pm Molasses Books: 770 Hart St, Brooklyn.

Redux - A Field Manual

Submissions Close September 9th

Submissions are open for poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and music.

The Poets Were Liars

Circus Book in conjuction with Wombat Theatre Co present THE POETS WERE LIARS A vaudeville reimagining of poetry, word, and song by Joe Weil and Emily Vogel. Directed by Kristen Tomanocy Edited by Tom Bair With Meghan Tynan Mary Anne Rojas Chris Milea Music by Aaron Hochman May 23 8pm May 24 8pm The Red […]

Redux - A Field Manual

REDUX – A Field Manual

Now available!    

Relaunch, Recite, Relax

Circus Book is back on the wagon with open submissions in poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and music; the publication of an art-essay by NY Giant Eileen Myles; a newly designed site; and the forthcoming publishing and performance of Joe Weil’s book of essays, The Redux Handbook. To celebrate and to raise funds for that performance we’ll […]

Third Propaganda!

Third Propaganda

machine in the grass

A Living Artist – lewis levenberg

What scares you about the machines? Whatever it is, you’ll get over it. It’s more or less a human being thing. You walk day to day, paycheck to paycheck, smothering the city in a passionate misgiving. Some produce more elaborate conclusions, some do more, more diligently. You entail the final speculation. Anyway, it’s not really […]

not quite the desert of the real

A Living Artist – Preface

Two months ago, Circus Book asked a slew of artists what they were up to. Today marks the beginning of the resultant essay series, A Living Artist. Notice the word ‘today’ in the previous sentence. It’s relevant for two reasons. First, art cuts across time. And this is exactly the sort of detail we want […]

Gaelle Voltaire – So Many Holes in the Brain (Poems)

Mater It seemed that all day when I was wandering the city, I was surrounded by a cone of silence and now here I am confronted with this child, and all I hear is noise. The noise of pattering steps, the rustling of clothing as this ugly little thing grasped earnestly for my embrace, the […]