"We like pieces that are intimate, pieces that challenge the status quo, pieces that our readers will be thinking about when they are driving home late at night. We like humor, especially when that humor serves a bigger purpose."
Vibe: Send us your best but less intimidating
Response time:
?
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:
2018
Has Masthead info:
Yes

Genres

👌

Fiction

Max words: 2000Max pieces: 3
👌

Nonfiction

Max words: 2000Max pieces: 3
👌

Poetry

Max pieces: 5
👌

Art

Max pieces: 5

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Masthead

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Emylee Frank

Editor

Kali Heals

Community Outreach

Terra Iverson

Brice Maiurro

Huascar Medina

Morgan L. Ventura

Examples

'Pretzels' by Danny Mazur

(excerpt)
Every night before bed I would wander into my Dad’s kingdom Laying on his king-sized bed With a book and pretzels scattered across his hairy chest His trusted steeds (10 lb. twin toy poodles) Intently waited for treats A low static from AM talk radio filled the room He removed suit and tie Donning blue converse shorts, no shirt I remember the way his toes would wiggle How he would tell me what he was reading about How crumbs would fall from his lips As he laughed at his own jokes
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'the alley poets' by chelsea cook

(excerpt)
Let me show you Where the poets live. They gather in an alley, at midnight, under the full moon, To read dirty haiku and make a ruckus in the streets. Rebels! But they are caring rebels. Tonight, I found the alley poets And took a dose of love. How are you feeling? they ask. Good, I say. (Good is always the right answer, the work answer.) No, tell us how you really feel. Depressed. That’s better, because it’s honest. Now come here: “Every day, we’ll show you a moment so golden you must close your eyes to see it.” I must stick around for that day.
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'The Kind of Diner' by Samantha Steiner

(excerpt)
The kind of diner where the benches are turquoise vinyl, where the tables are edged in steel and there’s a tin full of half-used crayons by the register. Maybe there’s a jukebox. Maybe the jukebox actually works. Maybe it swallows your nickel. The kind of bagel shop where half the walls are exposed brick and the other half are glass, where all the furniture was bought at an estate sale. Orders are handwritten on a notepad with a ballpoint pen and strung on the laundry line that spans the counter. There is no bathroom. Even the employees have to duck into the office building across the street on their lunch breaks.
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'None of That' by Anna Leahy

(excerpt)
A friend, a fellow poet, announces that he will someday open a restaurant called None Of That, wanting customers to say Oh, I’ll have none of that, and by that, he means cheese! What confidence! I see now, only years later, its acronym: NOT. I am jealous of his utter disdain. I am jealous of his unwavering voice. What would I not serve? What would I not allow on my menu?
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