Breaking the Ice

Summer is finally here! The time is right for BBQ’s, T-shirts and ton’s of laughter. Here at Woodland Pattern MKE, things are set in motion to see all of those things fall into place. We kicked off our annual summer camp program yesterday with a class of 19, ranging from the ages of 12-17. Students from all around Milwaukee came to get familiar with poetry, community and partnership. It was interesting to see the pot simmer down as time progressed. At first, there was a certain still energy in the air emitting from the students. Each of them, not sure of what to expect from the program. As the day carried on, it was clear that there were bonds that had been made sure to last until the very end. The students participated in various activities including making homemade scrapbooks and a field trip to The Domes. We are excited to see what both the instructors and teens will take away from this week!



“Today was fun, I can’t wait to go to the zoo tomorrow. -Aliyah


“I visited the domes when I was about 5. It’s changed since then. It’s different, it’s better.”-Sonya

Genève Chao reviews “The Missing Museum” by Amy King



Amy King’s irascible and incantatory sprawlfest, The Missing Museum, which won the 2015 Tarpaulin Sky Prize (a fact which alone makes it the Heavyweight Champ of World Poetry as that year’s TS Prize anointed literal dozens of books of astonishing breadth and beauty as finalists and semifinalists), begins with a one-poem prologue/manifesto, the beautiful, frustrating “Wake Before Dawn & Salt the Sea,” which reads like a sonnet that refuses to restrain itself to quite the syllables required and yet still manages to convey precision and restraint, and which tells a reader everything about poetry: explicitly, that it is useless, it is fuckworthy, it is love; implicitly, it is the only choice that can be made by this glib, driven, passionate, jaded speaker, or anyone with any intelligence and heart. It is a warning and a dare: “We are not edges of limbs or the heart’s smarts only.” It is a fitting introduction to this book of poems that, as it demands, wrestle and make love, and which unsurprisingly leave the reader breathless, dazzled, exhausted, and slightly bruised. Continue reading