Events

"In the Kitchen" poetry could involve foods, customs, kitchen talk, preparation, or teaching.

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.

As we all contend with the global ":crisis" in politics, climate and return to bias and prejudice, we're asking our readers to consider ways of engaging in tapping into our own collective and inner resilience.

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?

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.

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.

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!

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.

Gold isn't just a precious metal. It's the light that shines through darkness, illuminating our shared humanity. The warmth that brings us together when the world feels cold. The glow of beloved faces in firelight, a setting sun, candles on a table.

Start making a list. For Issue 9, we're asking you for your best inventory poems, also known as list or catalog poems. As the name suggests, an inventory poem is a form + device that rely on an inventory of people, objects, images, characteristics, ideas, emotions, etc.

Submissions are restricted to women and gender non-conforming people.

In July we’re thinking about radical forgiveness. For ourselves and for others. How have you found redemption in this world?

School’s out for summer, and this month at the Throw, we want stories of junior rocketeers discovering the darker side of summer break. We’re looking for noir coming-of-age tales, set against the backdrop of freedom afforded by summer recess.

What happens when settings look fine — happy, even — on the surface, only for a distortion to be lurking just out of sight? What can the uncanny help us understand about ourselves, our relationships, our communities?