How could I not love a journal that employs a semicolon in its title? Tuesday; An Art Project goes against the grain of the traditional idea of a journal. Instead of bound pages between two covers, we get a stack of postcard-sized prints (and one actual postcard) with beautifully rendered poems, photos, and other visuals on each card. There are no pages, no numeration on the cards (aside from the issue number), and usually there’s a surprise insert that features an interview or amalgamation of written/visual texts. Sure, there’s a table of contents printed on the sturdy envelope that holds the journal (also of simple and elegant design), but there’s no reason to follow the order dictated, and why should you? Hell, maybe some of the poems have even decided to visit other issues to kick it with them for a minute. Maybe that Megan Garr poem wants to hang out with Phillip Williams’ poem, who am I to judge? Poems do what they want to do when they have freedom to move.
Maybe you want to hang one of the poems on your wall, or gift one to someone who you think would appreciate its power. Leave poems in a café, on a free magazine rack. You could part and parcel the whole damn thing if you wanted, seeing as how they’re printed for sharing, for standing on their own. I imagine that editor Jennifer Flescher would be more than pleased, being a bookmaker, photographer, poet, herself. In her own words, “Work should be enjoyed tactilely. Poems should be kept, when loved. Passed on. Sent out.”
So let them scatter across your desks, your wife’s armoire; let them sneak in your textbooks when you go to teach, hide in the back of your car, taped to the fridge, your mirror, find their way into someone else’s hands.
*Throughout Poetry Month 32 Poems will use this space to praise presses, journals, and readings series that bring poetry to us in a special way. Our hope is that we can point new fans in their direction and publicly thank editors and curators for their work. Check in with us again tomorrow for another poet’s recommendation.
Born and raised in Topeka, Kansas, Gary Jackson is the author of the poetry collection Missing You, Metropolis, which received the 2009 Cave Canem Poetry Prize. His poems have appeared in Callaloo, Tin House, The Normal School and elsewhere. He’s also been published in Shattered: The Asian-American Comics Anthology, and is the recipient of both a Cave Canem and Bread Loaf fellowship. An MFA graduate from the University of New Mexico, Jackson currently teaches full-time at Central New Mexico Community College in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and at the low-residency MFA program at Murray State University in Murray, Kentucky. He has been a fierce lover of comics for over twenty years.