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Generation X Review
We do not want to read any submissions about the act of selling anything, buying anything, or processing anything. We will not edit poems, stories, or essays about things bought or processed, print anything sold or processed, or even think about things that could be sold, bought, or processed. We do not participate in selling, buying, or processing. We are not even really a journal so much as a group house that thought of a cool name over some boxed wine one night and then were like, I don’t know, man, that seems kind of like a sell-out move. Whatever. Rest in peace, Kurt. Send us something you didn’t put too much effort into. 


Sure, the first thing was good, but someone else published that. We’re here to put out the derivative retelling, filled with slightly less lovable versions of the characters you fell in love with in that first thing and a plot that seems strikingly similar in its beats and turns so that you can rest assured you know exactly where the story’s headed. If you thought a joke was funny then, we’re sure to kill it this time around with our almost-but-not-quite-the-same version. If you cried the first time, the stuff in our journal will leave you feeling emotionally manipulated and underwhelmed. Send us your second best.


The New New Management Review
First of all, we are not that guy who did that thing. That was terrible. Wow. We were on Twitter then and even though we had no idea we’d eventually be presiding over this well-respected but  admittedly damaged journal, we were like: holy fucking shit did you see that thing that dude sent to that poet? Please know that we are under completely new management. We do not even know how to use Photoshop. Please note that our email address has been updated on the website. Seriously you should really never send anything to that other email. 


Moon Poetry Review
We are open to poems of any style, genre, or topic, as long as that topic is the moon. 


Bird City Review
Look. It doesn’t really mean anything. It isn’t an inside joke, there’s no story behind it, it isn’t a nickname for the city where we were founded. As far as we know, there isn’t even a “Bird City.” We liked the sound of it and went with it. We didn’t really think ahead. We registered a url, got a squarespace account. We don’t want to say we regret the name but… please stop sending us stuff about birds. We know, we know, it’s in our name, and they’re poetic and make for great imagery and metaphor, but we’ve read it before. We swear. All of it. You might want to take that as a challenge and try and send us something about birds in a totally new and unique way. Don’t. We’ve read it. Send us your best work… about anything other than birds.


The Redacted Reader
We’re looking for stories and essays and poems that test the limits of needing to be censored. We’re especially looking for creative use of expletives, for stories about public figures, for essays that can’t legally be published without fact-checking. We understand the confusion, but please do not send us blackout poems. Send us your best work.


Q Review
Fellow Patriots. 
Only those who could[can] truly see [control] are invited to submit to QR [review] during next open [submission] period.
We accept [submissions] of 

1. poetry 
​2. prose 
3. drops 
4. posts
5. creative nonfiction
6. things seen/unseen [insurance] 
7. information warfare [mothers milk] 
8. memes 
9. larps
10. descriptions of scents
11. prose poems [whispers] 
12. secret signs 
13. prophecies
14. codes
15. ciphers
16. wireframes
17. presidential pardons and/or appointments
18. elaborate handshakes
19. URLs
20. mysterious [symbols]
21. ancient predictions 
22. fox news segments
23. 1s & [zeros]
24. nickelback lyrics 
25. facebook groups 
26. arcane rituals
27. the [takeover] of federal wildlife reserves 
28. morse code embedded in pixels 
29. hard drives 
30. flash fiction 

Traitors everywhere.
No [simultaneous] submissions.
Look Q drop 4 [open] sub periods.
Send your [best] work.  


Arby’s Quarterly Review
You thought we were going to fuck with Taco Bell Quarterly? Nah, fuck that. Live mas, Taco Bell Quarterly! Live mas. 


Object Color Review
A Tampa, Florida apartment. You, tanned and confident, a slight limp, a light accent. OCR takes another hit of Whipped Lightning. What is that we see in your eyes, your carriage, your scent your jaw the arches of your very feet? Insouciance? Prophecy? You are a cipher arrived lo these many years hence forward and arching ever back, backing backward through the jaguar spectrum of the night’s purchase. We ease to the yellow couch along the wall. Caramel pecan. A game of cat and mouse. 18.25% alcohol. A game of nickels and buffalo nickels. 36.5 proof. Gold and periwinkle. And and and. Send us your best work.