the sum of its
proper divisors
is greater than the thing itself
abundant
number
irregular bulletins* from the people of Earth
*thanks, Corita, for that phrasing


Abundant Number is a way of making books together that prioritizes small scale production and material, tactile pleasure.
Each volume of Abundant Number will contain a few pieces of writing. Some will include images. Some will include unbound ephemera; others will take the form of a staple-bound booklet.
Many writers whose work appears in Abundant Number will publish serially, giving you a chance to get to know their work over time.

Small runs.
Low cost.
Hand it on.
Abundant Number is something between a table of zines at a punk fair, a case of mail-art and Fluxus ephemera at a museum, and the chapbooks we make for our friends. Read, then pass your copy on to someone else. There won’t be hundreds of spare copies to pulp—there will be a few dozen copies to share and send.
Take your time.
Abundant Number will be a series of booklets full of slow things—broadly understood to mean things that are slow to read or write or make, that take time to think; that are slow-moving, durational, full of white space, packed with lines of closely set text; that go at the speed of a pedestrian; that are belated, late, or out-of-date—among many other possibilities. It’s an experiment in slow publishing, too: we’re going to use the postal service, trust, patience, and paper. Abundant Number is less a “literary journal” and more a project in publishing-as-art. Or maybe in publishing-as-being-together.
I hope that Abundant Number will feel like the opposite of the infinite scroll that follows us around these days and lives in our pockets. The books will be designed to let you slow down, let you take your time, remind you that the time you spend your time paying attention to the world is the root of thinking, artmaking, our ways of being together.
The volumes you’ll receive in the mail are lighter, cheaper, and less resource-intensive than a screen. They’re distraction-free. They’re not precious: put one in an envelope and send it on to someone else. And every so often, a new volume will appear.




Your questions, possibly anticipated:
Editorial information
Sending work:
During occasional open reading periods, there will be a link here to send work. Work sent by other means and at other times will not be read.
Work sought:
Records of walks or pauses; careful workings-out of ideas about being, seeing, imagining; reviews of books, music, visual art, exhibitions, and performances that are more than a year past first publication/production; text messages to be sent via the postal service. Classified ads. Diagrams. Found poems. Digital ephemera. Analogue glitches. Fluxus scores. Maps.
Texts in Abundant Number may take any form. Text work with a visual/performative typographical element is welcome. Concrete poetry is welcome. Formally experimental prose is welcome. Just about everything is possible.
My taste happens in the intersection of Corita Kent’s “irregular bulletins” (hat tip for the tagline), Fluxus, mail art, diy-culture of the 1980s-2000s, photocopier art, found poetry, the routines and objects of everyday life. My politics are more or less anarchist, with a pretty decidedly preferential-option-for-the-poor, liberation-theology bent. Yours don’t have to be, but that might give you an idea of what especially moves me and what won’t appeal. That said, the thing I look for in work is its integrity—that it’s doing whatever it’s doing fully. I’m interested in publishing work that’s nothing like mine, and like nothing I’ve seen before.
