Most events are installed on their deadline date, unless there is a long submission window or unless it's a rolling submission.
P=Poetry, N=Nonfiction, F=Fiction
Sevdah is a genre of Turkish and Bosnian folk music evoking sorrowful love and ecstatic, amorous yearning—from the Arabic “sawda,” meaning “black bile,” or a melancholy state of longing. In Issue II of our second opus, desire is holy and heavy as the still before the train comes. Moor us in the unquenchable. We want a begging to believe in.
Voices Unbound is a space for poems that explore the myriad facets of life, love, loss, identity, resilience, and the world around us. We welcome poems that challenge, inspire, and resonate.
Tell us about survival: what it is and what it means. Tell us about coping in a dumpster fire world. Tell us about what scares you and how to overcome it. You get the idea!
Icebreakers wants your almost, maybes. Your brushes with the other worldly. Your longings. Send us your work that explores your interpretation of "close encounters" (Aliens in no way required. Though of course we still love them).
Gypsophila complements any flower placed beside it in a bouquet or flowerbed. This magazine combines art and literature, visual and verbal art coming together to create something beautiful. Just like how baby’s breath (gypsophila) can grow in tandem with almost any other flower.
June is Pride Month, and we want to share the beautiful (and often tought) moments of coming out. Don’t be afraid to share the rawness of it all, the hurt as well as the beauty.
We're looking for essays that delineate both how feminists may experience, theorize, and productively apply the concept of regret and how it may, alternatively, thwart the development of feminist futures.
Write about your experience navigating the world as a bi+ person and trying to find your own community, whether that be a friend group, chosen family, knitting circle, or so on.
This call is for writers born and/or residing in Canada and Canadians living abroad.
Fallen from grace, or falling on your face, out for the count or out on the town, down in the dumps or deep below the earth (or the waves), on the road with no fixed abode ... be creative and show us what you can do with this theme!
We want examples from outside of the mainstream, stories about practices, ideas, and movements that were/are suppressed by economic, socio-cultural, religious, or imperial (colonial) powers.
Queer characters (and queer people, for that matter) put up with enough bullshit from homophobes and transphobes, and this month we want noir tales where they turn the tables on the haters in fabulous and brutal ways.
We seek submissions for the "Jerky" issue. Our themes are not to be approached literally. Please just have fun with the theme, or ignore it altogether. The small submission fee is to help defray the cost of shipping physical contributor's copies.
Boudin is currently looking for creative work that speaks on the beautiful moments of queer life, the not so beautiful moments, and even the everyday uneventful moments. The goal of this issue if to remind everyone that queer people have always been here and will always be here. We cannot be erased.
We want to read haibun and tanka prose that excites. It should leave THE DOOR AJAR to the world, and work with tension.
The theme is ‘Competition’. Remember, it needs to make us laugh! (In a good way)
"In the Kitchen" poetry could involve foods, customs, kitchen talk, preparation, or teaching.
What does it mean to be a poet engaged with the physical material of the world around us? How does poetic form change in the encounter with other beings? How do we write collaboratively with—rather than about—nonhuman beings and ecologies?
Summer is close and we like to spend much time outside. You are challenged to observe the sky, to explore the objects in the sky: airplanes, kites, skyscrapers, balloons, clouds, rainbow, moon, stars, anything you want.
Yaffle’s Nest invite you to submit poems about what you consider to be the best songs of all time.
Put on your Sunday best for this edition of Griffith Review, which goes behind the seams to unpick the many paradoxes of fashion.
In this issue, we explore the boundaries drawn around us—by law, by faith, by fear—and the ones we are willing to cross, no matter the cost.
What ideas does the word sanctuary evoke for you? Are you thinking about being rescued, or offering rescue? Where do you find sanctuary?
A mountain could be desolate or teaming with life; it could be a struggle, an idea, or a large thing in an otherwise small space. It could also be a hurdle or something to conquer.
Stories for this theme have a chance to really immerse us in the ocean's depths—from mythical creatures and mysterious islands to terrifying trenches and lighthouses standing against time and tide.
The intimate spaces, fleeting moments, and hidden corners where life reveals its depth. A single room, a brief encounter, or a whispered thought, these tiny realms often hold a quiet power that is often left unexpressed.
We want examples from outside of the mainstream, stories about practices, ideas, and movements that were/are suppressed by economic, socio-cultural, religious, or imperial (colonial) powers.