Our new issue is live and features the work of eight wonderful writers and artists. Check it out, and get ready to send us some new work this year. (https://t.co/74UWObX7ro) https://t.co/7bwXaHt5LZ
Honored to have three poems in the latest issue of @UnearthedJ — it would mean a lot to me if you checked them out along with the works of the other contributors!
https://t.co/FQHAJFMcGQ
And we're live! Check out the Spring 2021 issue, featuring the work of 14 writers and artists. We look forward to reading again in the fall.
https://t.co/QoecJomEsN
Kari A. Guilbault is currently a graduate student at Purdue University studying bioarchaeology. From our latest issue, her collection Sticks and Stones (that look like bones) illustrates the interconnection of humans and nature🦴
https://t.co/CzRadQ7Jb8
We'll be celebrating as we read through your submissions for our Spring issue! Remember, submissions are still open, and we'd love to celebrate with you-- 🌷
Forest Fires, pandemic walks, and the yearning for a crowded subway ride. Charlotte Friedman's timely poems take the words right out of your mouth.
Check it out here
https://t.co/3m3ptmgwoC
We're open for submissions through April 16 and we're doing a special themed part of the issue about CATHARSIS. Make it a prompt: what does catharsis mean to you, visually or poetically or think-cappy? We are excited to read and view your work. https://t.co/aWpd8Descn
"Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Hey, you, check out Audrey Fatone's poem called "Fossils" in our latest issue:
https://t.co/JV88QHlO0N
She's an ESF student and creator of the school's Poetry Society, with many beautiful words to share with the world! 🍓
Gavin Duncan dances with time in our latest issue::
"Tomorrow
is a series of mirrors & endless reflection.
Yester resembles to, but the morrow I haven’t undressed.
The names I’ve yet to speak,
the sun that’s yet to stir me from the
somethings of my sleep."
https://t.co/RGbNfO7ADu