"We publish two poems by each author that in some way or another pair together as a “couplet” of poems. We only consider two poems per submission."
Vibe: Weird / outsider / wtf even is it
Response time:
1-3 months
Payment:
No
Simultaneous submissions:
Yes
Previously published:
No
Submission fee:
Free
Expedited submissions:
No
Available in print:
No
Examples online:
Yes
Average acceptance rate:
?
Country:
United States
Year founded:
2021
Has Masthead info:
Yes
Chill Subs Tracker Stats!
Total tracked subs
13
Average acceptance rate
-
Average response time
-
Average acceptance time
-
Average rejection time
-
Fastest response time
-
Slowest response time
-
Genres
👌
Poetry
Max pieces: 2Poems that pair, rhyme (literally or figuratively), complement, hold hands, translate, juxtapose, or otherwise can’t live without each other.
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Masthead
We currently list only main editors, more will be added later!
If you're an editor, you can edit your masthead in our admin panel :)
If you're an editor, you can edit your masthead in our admin panel :)
Rebecca Lehmann
Editor-in-ChiefExamples
'HOW TO STAY SAFE' by W. Todd Kaneko
(excerpt)
Read the full piece in the magazineWhen your wife asks if you want another
child, tell her that the sun’s core is nuclear
fusion that will one day consume the Earth,
that the corner cemetery is wet and full
of quiet bodies. There are guns on the news
today—a grocery and a synagogue, and a school
is no place for children anymore. Your son
has a husky wail that cuts through the night.
'WHEN OUR TWIN SONS ARE BORN' by W. Todd Kaneko
(excerpt)
Read the full piece in the magazineI’m not thinking about those movie scientists
reinventing the dinosaur over and over. A baby
is not a thunder lizard, not a tangle of scales
and teeth out for an easy meal, but two babies
are a swarm of fingernails and hunger
for love in the darkest heart of the night.
Two babies arrive in the hospital room,
with an announcement of everything
we’ve been feeling these past few months,
love starved and panicked for extinction.
Extinction in fancy restaurants, in school
parking lots, by the Chinese place in the mall
food court—everywhere at once empty of bodies.
'Sad Girl Sonnet #15' by Diannely Antigua
(excerpt)
Read the full piece in the magazineI leave museums too fast like the men in the morning—
no coffee, maybe a kiss on the cheek, sometimes I’ll call you.
I stroll by Michelangelo paintings, some da Vinci, whole rooms
of Botticelli. Still, there is no limit to my dissatisfaction
with the world. Nothing feels right, throat burning. I want to go
home. I text the man I’ve been fucking. I want to love him
but he probably won’t let me. I leave Italy in a month.
'Sad Girl Sonnet #18' by Diannely Antigua
(excerpt)
Read the full piece in the magazineThe summer I moved to New York was the summer of BV:
bacterial vaginosis. I wanted to blame the subway platform
heat. Or the new silk underwear I bought to feel like Carrie Bradshaw,
my true Sex and the City moment, and here was BV, stinky
BV, me and BV at my fourth visit to the health center already.
I want to blame a dick. But I don’t know whose
to blame. I could blame my pussy, her distorted rainbow
of brown, deeper brown, pink, red, and purple.
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