November Is Never

Ian U Lockaby

Seven people severed from subsistence climb a tree                None of them can fit    Along thin edges of their own breaththey embroidered a fine lace—                red: to give impression        that the bloodof dapper enemies    lines their bellies and lungs    The tree's                an old man         bearded with champagne        and electionsstatue erections     what americana    You extinguish yourself with                 every vote            Who is a you— you who gains on me        me who       belies some strong staggering                 bellies up to a feast at the family dollar                    You whothere's no competing with        a  sentence of simpering                politicos            on a mountain of smashed ESPN satellitesThis sport            every sport            blended blood with landscape               It's ineluctable                        the non-possibilities ofElection             everything                    is pointing to the trees                saying we can't all fit up there                              We'd like to—wemust—                It's fitting                it's a ways up                                maybe we—               after this season—        are several people already tryingThey count 14 august buds            with ballot in hand                 torch each on a nipple        or 2                touched budsslung with sap                        it's warm        inside                another moth-bitten democratic velveteen sweater slingcanteen of sour sips                         Ruddering me            these                ruddering ifs—                anaphoric                November isnever at all—

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Ian U Lockaby

Ian U Lockaby is a poet and translator living in New Orleans. His poems have been or will be published in Sixth Finch, Denver Quarterly, Posit, Witness Magazine, Poet Lore, Interim Poetics, and elsewhere. He is the translator of Gardens / Jardines, by Chilean poet Carlos Cociña, published by Cardboard House Press in 2021, and his translations also appear in journals such as Anomaly, Washington Square Review, and The Arkansas International. He edits the new journal, mercury firs, and more of his work can be found at

Tilted House Review Issue 4 Cover

Issue 4

New Orleans , Louisiana


Cameron Lovejoy

Tilted House is a New Orleans-based book press whose publications span the spectrums of class, race, locale, and generational and educational milieus. Established by a self-educated poet and editor, Tilted House values autodidactism, self-direction, and the underdog—while also recognizing the worth of academia. We want to hear from everyone.

We like clowning around, the avant-garde, satire, polemics, and walloping of the status quo. We’ll take it in the form of poetry, prose, hybrids, experimentation, all avenues of visual art, and however else you’d like to say it. Tilted House originated in and breathes the bad air of New Orleans. And because of this town’s artistic, activistic, and literary history, we’ve bet all our cards on this community and what it creates. That said, we’re also an international publication, welcoming all perspectives, languages, and potpourri.

We publish art, books, zines, artist books, broadsides, ephemera, and other oddities. Our tangible work is often letterpress-printed (or relief printed in other ways) and handbound in small, intimate runs. We manage a web magazine (which you have found!) and a quarterly electronic art series. We also host readings and other community events in town. In the offing are plans for workshops on various doozies like writing and book building. Most of our editorial staff is either from or lives in New Orleans (or Louisiana at large), and has taken various educational thoroughfares to arrive at the House. We believe in creating opportunities for one another and those around us, and see the small press as a tool for empathy.

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