A Series of Un/Natural/Disasters is attentive to the sorts of mutual aid and possibility that appear in moments of state failure. As such it maps long and complicated equations, moving from Katrina to the prisoners at Riker’s Island as they await Sandy. It understands disaster as a collective system, the state as precarious, and community as necessary.

Andrea Abi-Karam is an arab-american genderqueer punk poet-performer cyborg, writing on the art of killing bros, the intricacies of cyborg bodies, trauma & delayed healing. Their chapbook, THE AFTERMATH (Commune Editions, 2016), attempts to queer Fanon’s vision of how poetry fails to inspire revolution.

In this bold and expansive treatise, Marquis Bey seeks to define the shape of a Black anarchism—not, he says, by listing “all the Black people who are anarchists and the anarchists who are Black people,” but though a fluid and generative encounter between anarchism and Blackness. Classical anarchism tended to avoid questions of race—specifically Blackness—as well as the intersections of race and gender. Skeptical of satisfying himself with the usual finger-pointing this lack invites, Bey addresses it head on, not by constructing a new cannon of Black anarchists but by outlining how anarchism and Blackness already share a certain subjective relationship ...

Italy’s iconic revolutionary author offers a requiem for the rebels of 1968, of the Hot Autumn and the Creeping May, imagining a blackout like New York City’s famous moment of chaos and in this framework trying to understand the political events that led to the brutal repression and destruction of a generation. Ferocious, despairing, beautiful line by line, this book captures the era we cannot stop leaving.

Cruel Fiction brings together new material with celebrated work published here for the first time in book form, including the provocative and charged “Brazilian Is Not a Race,” a sonnet sequence meditating on race, nation, and history seen from the author’s native Rio Grande Valley. This is a spectacular debut trying to puzzle though the insurgencies, context, and kinesis of our present, from the workplace to the pop charts but most of all to the politics of struggle.

In Duppies, D.S. Marriott writes a poetry of grime, the London street music, one that is “late shift, zero hour.” Mixing lyric tonality with grime’s aggression, grit, and speed, this is a coruscating study of the racial politics of austerity. And it is an erudite lyric, one attentive to the continuing legacies of slavery, how this history shapes and defines everything from the law to the understanding of who or what is human.

In 1968, the American-born French poet Leslie Kaplan went to work in a factory. She did so out of choice rather than necessity, part of a generation of Maoist établis, university-educated radicals who entered the factory in order to organize the working class. Excess—The Factory evokes the tumult of those years through an encounter with the serial violence of the assembly line, descending by way of infernal workshops to reach the dark center of capitalist accumulation. Hailed by French luminaries such as Maurice Blanchot and Marguerite Duras as a unique event in writing, the book was at once legendary and all but lost ...

Winner of the prestigious Prêmio Rio de Literatura in Brazil, and now available in expert English translation, Adelaide Ivánova’s The Hammer nails its bold proclamations to the wall of a rape culture both literary and literal. Naming the names and disabling the victim-blaming machinery of the state, Ivánova offers us a battle cry for the #MeToo era. Beyond this and despite a universe of oppressions, she also manages to envision a space for real intimacy between lovers. A hammer is a weapon, she reminds us, but also a tool. You can tear it all down and then build something with it.

At once practical handbook and philosophical inquiry, Ida Borjel’s exploration of sabotage and its history throws a wrench into the machinery of contemporary language, generating strange affinities between wreckers, iconoclasts, and saboteurs of all types. Sourced from political pamphlets and factory workers’ diaries, and drawing out important connections between technology and poetic technique, Borjel’s profound poem allows for the most expansive (and explosive) understanding of sabotage – technological, political, economic, and linguistic all at once. Silencing the machines, these sabotaged manuals allow us to hear new sounds and new possibilities for resistance.

A reckless voyage into the apocalypse against which we hurl ourselves night after night, entirely political and thus relentlessly personal, self-lacerating, perhaps a bit disordered, no doubt perilously lucid. Moving through the shards of the decade’s social movements and the torments of persisting within the wreckage, the book forms a complex web of lament and refusal. Its guides are Pasolini, Baudelaire, and especially Katerina Gogou, the great Greek poet, anarchist, and suicide. Our guide is Bonney himself, and there is none like him.

Our first release, Red Epic invents a volatile poetry for a world on fire, written to illuminate the wreckage of the most recent gilded age. Leaping levels from global systems to street fights and back again, accompanied by a Top 40 soundtrack full of Robyn and M.I.A., it remixes utopian hope and revolutionary antagonism.