Dracula (x8) Magazine | submissions closed
@buffalomag.bsky.social
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Grammatically correct sentence and vinegar-based literary magazine Submissions open May - September buffalojournal.tumblr.com
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buffalomag.bsky.social
Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo is now open for submissions for volume five! Please check our website (link in bio) for all the particulars, including how to submit art! I look forward to reading your work! #litmag #poetrycommunity
A dog (whippet?) is peeking its head from a full bookshelf; POESIA is printed on a sign at the top of the shelf
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tomsnarsky.bsky.social
I can’t tell you how to live your life, but I can definitely suggest in the strongest possible terms that you clear your calendar for next Thursday night, 9/18, and register at the 🔗 below to listen in on this reading! I’m so excited to hear these excellent poets read :)
NIGHT LIGHT
THURSDAY 9/18
9PM EASTERN
ZOOM

PAIGE TAGGART
SAMPSON STARKWEATHER
LAUREN HUNTER
BEN MIROV
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neonpajamas.bsky.social
18 readers. 84 minutes.

In case you missed it (or want to relive it), the full Surreal-Absurd reading marathon is now up on YouTube!

📚🌀🔮

youtu.be/SrXQLfeUsbg
Surreal-Absurd Virtual Reading Marathon (full event)
YouTube video by Piżama Press
youtu.be
buffalomag.bsky.social
One week left to submit your poems & art for volume five of Buffalo x 8! It's going to be the bee's knees! All info here: buffalojournal.tumblr.com/sub #poetrycommunity #litmag
A screencap of Britney Spears with the text, "Poems, mostly" beneath.
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klooky.bsky.social
i'm reading poems in santa fe, friday night, no shoes allowed, byo feelings
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manyworlds.place
We're so excited to announce issue 9, our TWO YEAR (!!!!) anniversary issue!

Featuring @sylvie-althoff.bsky.social, @gr8earlofhell.bsky.social, @mostlymosspoetry.bsky.social, and more.
Issue 9

Wenyi Xue
god bless America

endwell
neuroscience must reckon with the antipsychiatry movement

Chase Anderson
C:\Users\gnight\Desktop\who am i\README.txt

Ziqr
Gödel and Me On A Dark and Stormy Night

Benjamin Rodriguez
Poem 91

nat raum
if bpd could talk

Troy Droussiotis
GLAMOUR GIRL
 GLAMIFESTO (or A Manifesto in Non-Being)
 Glamour Girl Magenta
 GLAMOUR GIRL 2K

Sylvie Althoff
Last of the Cigarette Gremlins

jp thorn
Two Pieces
 mysticism for beginners
 fortune cookie aphorisms

Zoe Korte
O Aslan

Valerie Babenkova
Comfort in the Endless Forever of Underneath and Not

kendall q
lamb power fantasy, or sheepgulls
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kithbooks.bsky.social
there's a comfort in anger, there's a comfort in knowing you're not angry alone

with gasoline
by nat raum
@gr8earlofhell.bsky.social

is due out next week
kithbooks.bsky.social
nat raum pushes back against the sanitized polite, pliable, & otherwise "perfect" trans ideal deemed acceptable by society—if, and when, they are accepted at all—with poems that highlight the righteous, the cruel, and the ugly of existing in a cis het patriarchal world
@gr8earlofhell.bsky.social
cover:
A pink and black molotov cocktail on a background of blue. the title and authors name appear in a sharp peaked gothic font in white and black respectively.

text:
and at what point
do i hold the power to grab the system
by its clavicle and rupture back?
poem after and undisclosed meme about my pronouns

august 19th
pre-orders are
OPEN

kithbooks.com
the following poem appears in a white rectangle on a pink background. ia black handled chef's knife is stabbed through the bottom edge, handle up and point down.

text:
poem for the cishet woman who says including transmasc people in “women’s” issues isn’t relatable to her personally

this is a focus group. focus on identifying five things
i can see, four i can touch. focus on the cursor as it slides
over the camera button, switches it off. focus on the way
she says i hope you don’t take this as offensive, but after i say
the menopause website we’re all looking at doesn’t feel
trans-friendly. recalibrate; losing focus. don’t focus on
the way i feel, the way she doesn’t realize she swatted
me down like an attack helicopter would fall if struck
by such a blow. don’t focus on all twenty people who said
nothing and kept talking about the hot pink web design.
focus on the talking-to my boss says is coming for her.
focus on the email from my other queer coworker
sending love from her gay little corner of the world.
focus on quitting this job in a few months, anyway.
this is a focus group—focus on collecting my gift card
compensation. focus on a future without cis nonsense. the following poem appears in a white rectangle on a blue background. breaking up through the bottom edge of the image is the top half of a pink and black molotov cocktail

poem from my deathbed


i wish i had kicked. i wish i had screamed.
i wish i had yelled the words fuck off
far more, for so many more people deserved
them. i wish i had carved they into my right
breast, them into my left, and worn
my deepest v-neck. i wish i had found
a vessel for all this wrath before i came to
lie here, listing it all off like this is confession
and anyone who will listen is an eager-
eared soothsayer on the other side of a partition.
i wish being trans didn’t come with a side
of people so uncomfortable with themselves,
they have to project it onto others. i wish
i didn’t have to shut up about it to maintain
any modicum of respect the average cis person
has for me. i wish i didn’t have to say i use any
pronouns to dull the sting of a misplaced she.
i wish anyone in office gave a damn,
but they don’t. i wish the words
enshrined protections extended to me,
to us. i wish the fact weren’t,
but it is. 
a black handled, white bladed chef's knife, lies blade up on a pink background above the following text.

text:
A vibrant trans celebration, with gasoline is a Molotov thrown at heteropatriachy that ignites a vicious fire. Defiantly calling to attention ordinary and extraordinary transphobia, this collection bares its teeth at the world and refuses to take “no” for an answer. The author's succinct and biting language gives their anger a beautiful clarity that resonates beside their unending resolve for embodying trans joy. If apathy and despair are getting the better of you in these times, with gasoline is the fuel you need to rebirth your phoenix.
Sarah Klein,
author of Mast Cell Mathematics: A Chronic Illness Calculus

with gasoline offers an explosive bouquet of occasional poems for uncommon times, whether after cruel executive orders, during frustrating focus group conversations, or perilous moments that demand one's survival instincts. Their poems’ propulsive engine is fueled by righteous anger, moral clarity, and political courage. raum takes aim at transphobes, billionaires, bootlickers, boomers, and milquetoast liberals alike—in other words becoming “your worst fucking nightmare”—to  help us envision instead a future of trans liberation.
Evelyn Berry,
author of Grief Slut and T4T
buffalomag.bsky.social
I had the good fortune to publish Nicole Steinberg's first full-length poetry collection. Today is her birthday and maybe you wanna read it (it's pretty great). spookygirlfriendpress.tumblr.com/post/1891088...
spookygirlfriendpress.tumblr.com
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morganvl.bsky.social
Tomorrow (August 5) at 1pm EST / 6pm UK time: I’m looking forward to livestreaming with @flintdibble.bsky.social ! We’ll chat about looting, repatriation, and the politics of heritage in Mexico, so please do check it out!

youtube.com/live/pcp0lMx...
Stolen gods and ancestors? Looting and repatriation in Mexico
YouTube video by Archaeology with Flint Dibble
youtube.com
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klooky.bsky.social
wrote a poem called feelings come & go but teeth are forever. now it lives online, maybe forever, at @okaydonkeymag.com
poem called "feelings come & go but teeth are forever":

bring me lord a herd of teeth big as buffalo to wrap around this apple.
i ask so little, really—eight hours for sleep, eight hours outside, eight hours
for what i will. what i will is water, mostly hot, to sit in til i’m decent.
what i won’t is die working. i won’t shut up about solace, starlings,
what i read on wikipedia. i won’t give my body to science, just birds,
if i’m lucky. if anyone’s listening. i won’t listen to barbarous bullshit
churned out by chickenshit senators paid by a body count so high it chased
god from the room, i’d rather kiss a caterpillar, kick a cop, marry moonshine.
i won’t make promises i can’t keep, i can’t promise i’ll be more patient.
wouldn’t you know i won’t stay up past midnight if i can help it,
you wouldn’t believe what i can help. i can’t help that i won’t wait
for what i have to beg for. i won’t tell my body give me up, give me
quiet but no more hells. there is no better devil. i choose nothing
but us & by us i mean all of it, everything i won’t call anything but holy,
bring me what i want.
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ghostcitypress.bsky.social
ARDENTLY by Sara Matson (@saramatson.bsky.social) is out today as part of the 2025 Summer Series! Download your free copy here: ghostcitypress.com/2025-summer-...
buffalomag.bsky.social
This is the last month to submit poetry and/or art for volume five of Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo! The issue is going to be an all-timer - submissions won’t open again until next year, so send todayyy! #litmag #poetrycommunity
A small gray cat scoots backward, pulling the strings of a hoodie
buffalomag.bsky.social
Hi, I'm Johnny Knoxville, welcome to poetryfoundation dot org.
buffalomag.bsky.social
Walter Sobchak: See what happens? See what happens when you kick poets out of The Republic, Plato?!
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robmclennan.bsky.social
my latest poetry title, the book of sentences, a follow-up to the book of smaller (2022), both from University of Calgary Press; copies have just landed at my door; launch information (October, as the release date for the book) to follow, (once I have it, // @ucalgarypress.bsky.social
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elnorterecuerda.bsky.social
Hey! Have you signed up for PBS Passport yet? $5 per month, you donate to PBS with it, and you get all of their shows. I registered for annual at $60/year.

Cancel Paramount, get PBS passport instead.
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klooky.bsky.social
gotta poem up in @birdcoatquarterly.bsky.social thank god, it's got people protecting each other in it, it's got philadelphia, a girl dad, murmuration, the possibility of mutually assured survival.

it's a good issue and i'm grateful to part of it

www.birdcoatquarterly.com/blog/categor...
poem called october, philadelphia:

watching the world from where i am, i am togethered 
by the sight of it, mass of breathing bodies waving 
in the streets of pennsylvania, sharing watermelon, defiant 
& gorgeous. god of all gods, now a woman grips a key, 
believing. she is days ago & i am here, watching
chicago, london, even orlando. i watch in the park 
where the kneeling pray, held in by woven arms— 
how joy moves in murmurations. fall jays flocking 
stay attentive, each one, to the seven at its side. 
you learn to live this way. a girl an age i was once 
sits high above the crowd. i understand her hair 
& wish her every braid. she is on a man’s shoulders, 
the man is broad. he has a daughter. he is holding 
both her hands—what she must know by now 
to be here. how summer fruit survives.
buffalomag.bsky.social
It’s July. Woof. Submissions remain open for both poetry and art to be featured in volume five of Buffalo x 8! #litmag #poetrycommunity
Your Nate standing above the visitor’s dugout at Great American Ballpark in Cincinnati with a sign that says: I AM 30 OR 40 YEARS OLD AND I NEED A TWINS WIN; an image of Master Shake is also on the sign