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Get those submitting thumbs ready, and look out for a very exciting 2024 call from the Vassar Review... more to come!

We are so excited to announce the theme for the Vassar Review’s tenth issue: “Frame & Forgery.” Our submissions period OPENS TODAY, November 15th, and will close on January 19th, 2025. We can’t wait to read your work! SUBMISSION LINK IN BIO!

Wish of the day is to bring back Anne Carson’s concept of Spiritual Nudes.

I’ve read @Rattle‘s Poets Respond column every week since becoming a sentient-ish adult-ish. Absolutely thrilling to add a little panel to the quilt today. rattle.com/functional-con…

All regression is linear if you have eyes in the back of your head. —Eliza Gilbert Eliza Gilbert rattle.com/functional-con…

Sharing this as the year ends because I come back to it at least annually. Particularly, “my brother went down / to the river and put dirt on.” I think I am always trying to write like a child again. poetryfoundation.org/featured-blogg…

so cool to snag 2nd for this challenge and even cooler 2 have this goofy little mad lib up at Frontier Poetry !!!! frontierpoetry.com/2025/02/19/her…

My poem “Mad Lib” from Frontier Poetry’s Hermit Crab Challenge :)

“I speak only when left unspoken to”

hear a lot of young people saying they don’t “do” poetry because they don’t feel like being dark and weepy all the time. as if dark and weepy is not everywhere else, unlabeled. but also my favorite poems are about children embracing bags of pita chips in duane reade so idk

Story from the Master’s Review back in September. Special one for me. Yeah. mastersreview.com/winter-short-s…

women in PHLEGM (poetry, history, language, english literature, ghost stories, music)

a conclave occurs within me when it comes time to decide which pack of strawberries to buy

“outline,” they say. and yet all progress depends on the unreasonable man.

i love captchas. the grid layout, the sort-of liminal americana aesthetic, the feeling of solving a very dull bridge troll’s riddle. feel so smugly human picking out all those fire hydrants.

your friend’s dad, duck-footed, with a jester-like gap between his shoes and the hems of his chinos, hearing a perfectly typical name: “oh man, what a name!”

Anyone know any literary-ish jobs in the Boston area for a very eager, very green Vassar post-grad?

what are the fundamental differences (if any) between fabulation and magical realism?

today at work i had to ban the exclamation “gyatt!” from my first-grade classroom and then i came home and made my hands into those of baba yaga’s. i’m sure this is a sign of the times but i do not care to transliterate it.

Sometimes writer’s block leads me to become The Other Father but Yarn.