
“the poet” by Aamina Mughal
March 30, 2023
the poet this is you on your knees, surreal roses unfurled in a ghastly inversion at your feet. you balled your fists and balled your eyes out while you were patted on the back, like the ancient, qura...
A Blog of Seattle Arts & Lectures
the poet this is you on your knees, surreal roses unfurled in a ghastly inversion at your feet. you balled your fists and balled your eyes out while you were patted on the back, like the ancient, qura...
Simply Just Existing Life as an observer, mine not yours. As you get to play the game at its fullest. But I am a human after all, built to play the role I must. I am the quiet eye behind the window, o...
“The Wizard of Bygone Boulevard” by Jo Chick Bygone boulevard was by no means a lively place, considering its inhabitants consisted of geriatric witches and wizards. For most of BygoneR...
This essay is part of a series in which Seattle Arts & Lectures partners with Poetry Northwest to present reflections on visiting writers from the SAL Poetry Series. On Thursday, March 2, Kate Bae...
If you’ve been following us for a while, you may know Tessa Hulls, the “SAL Official Doodler” and author of the forthcoming graphic novel Feeding Ghosts (MCD Books, 2023). We were so lucky tha...
Through a deep night shines a spark of hope like a wasp without a stinger like a blinding rip in the needles of the air no one sees this hope or maybe they’re just too tired to care It flickers thro...
In the nine years since AWP (the Association of Writers & Writing Programs) last came to Seattle, we’ve seen a host of new shops and eateries open and many well-loved businesses and restaurants ...
We’re delighted to introduce you to Haines Whitacre, SAL’s new Donor Relations Associate! To help you get to know Haines, we asked her all about her work with SAL, reading habits, favorite pastim...
Plato once asserted that justice, in the scheme of morality and goodness, ultimately comes down to compromise. We discussed it in class, so it must be true, but tell me, philosopher, if perhaps I coul...
From here I see nothing There is nothing here There is not sky, or soft curling clouds There is no place where the sand becomes sea From here I hear nothing There is not gentle conversation There is n...