Posts Categorized: Online Feature

Article Thumbnail

What is Comics Poetry? by Alexander Rothman

We are proud to present this exclusive online content by Alexander Rothman to celebrate the release of IR 37.1, Summer 2015, which features our graphic memoir folio.


“…it is by their syllables that words juxtapose in beauty”
—Charles Olson

I call the work that I make and publish “comics poetry.” I have reasons for using that name and working in the hybrid form, but here’s the thing: I have no idols to tear down, and I hate polemics, so,


It’s really an invitation. There’s work to be done (always), and here’s what some of it could be. This stuff will be stronger if we hold it up next to each other. Read more…

Article Thumbnail

Online Feature: “Three Proofs” by Richard Siken

“Three Proofs”

Pablo Picasso, Gertrude Stein, 1905-6

When she saw herself, finished, she said, It doesn’t look like
me. Picasso said, It will. Perhaps it will look like her
because it is the document and will remain, while she is
just a person who will fade. Now, when we think of her,
we think of this painting. Picasso was planning ahead.
The painting is evidence but not proof. There’s no proof
that she looked like that, even though we have the
document. She existed enough to be painted. She could
have been an idea, but that’s another kind of existing.
The hand is a tool. The brush is a tool. The paint as well.
There is no machine here, though the work gets done.
A hammer is a tool when banging its head but a lever
when pulling up nails. A lever is a machine, has a fulcrum
which can be moved to change the ratio of something
or other, effort for distance. There is a fulcrum in
the mind that can be moved as well. I do not know what
else to say about this. Read more…

Article Thumbnail

Online Feature: “Sorry for Crashing Your Party and Possibly Killing Your Horse” by Elise Burke


I call Niles when I have a good amount of energy and feel sorry for myself. But he isn’t even fun enough to be distracting. When he comes on my stomach, he curses apologies and dabs at the pink scars, as if his little puddle hurts the spot where the tumor used to be. Who knows why he bothers pulling out, like it’s even possible for my body to support another person. At least for that one second he believes I’m a normal girl—one you can count on to be alive nine months later.

Read more…