1. Forum membership is free. No strings. No ads.

    Sign up to access the entire forum, including member-only submission boards. The content within member-only boards is not visible to unregistered members or to search engines, nor will the submissions there typically be considered published unless they are selected to appear on the site's front page.

    When signing up, use your real name or an established pseudonym. Accounts of those who do not follow this rule will be deleted. Only the "Public Forums" are visible to the public and to search engines. All other forum content is visible only after registering. Registration is free, and there is never a fee to submit your work or use the site, which is operated solely for the enjoyment and promotion of the arts by writers, artists, musicians, photographers, and other creatives. We look forward to seeing you.

Looking for submissions

Calls for Submissions by Morgan Driscoll, May 16, 2023.

  1. Morgan Driscoll

    Morgan Driscoll Well-Known Mumbler Supporter

    Hi everyone,
    My partner and I, on a lark decided to publish an anthology of poems about poetry and the poetry world. We are calling it "Up Your Ars Poetica Anthology"  You can find out more and submit here:


    We hope to have the book published for the Christmas season.

    If you have any poems lying around that sound like they may fit the bill,  previously published or not, simultaneous or not, and all the rest... Please submit. (note there is a 5 poem limit listed on the site but for OAF friends, who's counting?

    Thanks all!
  2. Daniel J. Flore III

    Daniel J. Flore III Well-Known Member Supporter

    Hey Morgan,

    I submitted a couple of weeks ago. Cool project.
  3. Morgan Driscoll

    Morgan Driscoll Well-Known Mumbler Supporter

    Hi Dan.

    We saw and smiled. Thanks!

    Everything is in process.

    Daniel J. Flore III likes this.
  4. Tom Strong

    Tom Strong Well-Known Member Supporter

    Can do, I have a couple too.
  5. silent lotus

    silent lotus Well-Known Member Supporter

    submit before September 15, 2023

    Morgen i will rummage around my archives

    silent lotus
    Morgan Driscoll likes this.
  6. silent lotus

    silent lotus Well-Known Member Supporter

    Morgan Driscoll likes this.
  7. Jay Dougherty

    Jay Dougherty Mangling Member Editor

    On Poetry Writing
    and Love Affairs

    When what was once something
    to help fill up the
    becomes something you
    wake up to, spend most
    of the day with,
    the best way to come
    out of it is to remember
    the consequences
    of not paying the bills.
    Douglas Goodwin likes this.
  8. Jay Dougherty

    Jay Dougherty Mangling Member Editor

    I'm on a mission from God

    morning (1:00 p.m.),
    8 days now
    without a shave.
    i can't afford much, not even
    razor blades
    because, you see, i'm a
    poet, and only a certain kind of
    gets paid.

    i slip into a
    towel and my
    3-year-old keds, hike
    out to the mailbox,
    look inside:
    The Great American Poetry Review
    sits there with
    nothing else.

    i don't know why it's there because
    only good poets, ones who get
    paid, make it
    into GAPR.

    perhaps it's a sign from God. something
    tells me to open it

    "...another wind laps at the edges
    of my memory..."

    "...the white of an eye turned up
    into blue folds of light..."

    "...rushing waters carry melted dust
    through us..."

    i close it...yes,
    the message is
    coming through:
    He's telling me
    i should grow a beard...
    and learn to love
    my holy
    tennis shoes.
    Douglas Goodwin likes this.
  9. Douglas Goodwin

    Douglas Goodwin Remember

    rushing waters carry melted dust
    through us

    I can't stop thinking about melted dust.
    Jay Dougherty likes this.
  10. Jay Dougherty

    Jay Dougherty Mangling Member Editor

    Two poets

    Jan came into the room, sat down in the rusted
    lawn chair, opened a bottle of cola and pushed her
    feet up onto the table. It was the kitchen
    table, and the living room
    table, and the television

    Jan and Harry had, in short, just one other
    piece of furniture:
    the mattress.

    “Shit,” Jan said, taking a gulp
    of coke.

    “What's wrong, Jan,” Harry said—
    “just the usual?”

    “Uh uh,” she said. “This time it's worse.
    This time I've had it, and I may never go back.”

    “Jan,” Harry said, “some day we're both going to die,
    and if we die the usual way, like everybody else, we'll
    most likely be apart when it happens, maybe one of us
    at work while the other one kicks off. Anyway, we haven't
    worked it out the usual way so far; why shouldn't we die
    together? What I'm saying is, quit the damn job; let's starve
    together or take enough drugs together so that we both
    kick off.”

    “I don't know if I want to kick off, though,” Jan said.
    “Why can't you get a job for awhile and let me stay home
    and write the poems?”

    “I'm afraid it's too late for that,” said Harry.
    “I've been writing the poems so long now that all I can
    think of is death, and you know it never works
    to talk about death during a job interview.”

    “But you don't have to talk about death
    during the interview,” she said.

    “Jan,” Harry said, lowering his voice,
    “be serious. All the employers will know that I'm faking it
    if I don't talk about death. They've all read my poetry
    by now.”

    “You have flipped out,” Jan said. “You think anybody reads
    those dumb little xeroxed rags that publish your shit...?”

    “Jan, don't call my poetry shit,” Harry said flatly.
    “Before you started working full-time you had more respect
    for my works.”

    “Well, I was either naive then or your works have deteriorated
    in quality quite a bit," Jan said. “I mean,
    your poems are nothing but prose cut up into lines

    “Jan,” Harry said, “I think this discussion is
    getting us nowhere.”

    “Oh, just great,” she said. “What then? I'll tell you
    what. Jan keeps working and you keep on writing your shit
    and sending it off to those dumb fucking little
    magazines. Jan pays the bills and you continue paying for
    a cup of coffee for yourself once every week with those
    fifty-cent checks you get in the mail.
    Is that it?"

    “Jan, I asked you not to call my poems shit.”

    “Oh, my god, you conceited bastard—you don't even respond
    anymore to my complaints. All you can talk about is your dumb,
    stupid SHIT—and DEATH—you and your stupid SHIT about
    DEATH! I can't take it anymore!”

    “Okay, look,” said Harry. “You've had a rough day.
    Why don't we eat some dinner and talk about this
    when we're both in a better mood?”

    “SHIT and DEATH,” she went on. “That's all you are:
    SHIT and DEATH. I HATE your SHIT and I HATE your DEATH!
    If you don't want to change things, then you can just
    EAT your SHIT and DIE!”

    Harry got up from the kitchen table, walked into the
    bathroom, and shut the door.
    He stayed in there, no noise,
    five, ten, fifteen minutes.

    Jan listened, telling herself she didn't

    A half an hour passed, no sound from within.

    Finally Jan got up, walked to the bathroom door. “Harry, look,
    you okay in there?”

    “I'm okay,” said Harry.

    Jan could tell he had been crying.

    “Just leave me alone a little while longer. I've been trying
    to write a poem. I don't think I can

    “Look,” Jan said, “why don't you take a laxative.
    Something's bound to come out in a couple of hours.”

    “Good idea,” Harry said. “Does this mean
    you aren't mad anymore?”

    “Well,” Jan said, “we'll have to
    talk about this awhile.”
    “I understand,” said Harry.

    Jan heard Harry unlock the door, and then it opened.
    Harry stood there, face red from crying, pants bunched up
    around his ankles, penis shriveled and

    Jan kissed him on the forehead.

    “You shit,” she said, a little tear forming at the edge
    of her eye, “someday you'll be the death of me.”

    “Now you're talking,” Harry said.

    Harry pulled up his pants with one hand, and they
    walked over to the mattress, turned on the small
    black-and-white television with a coat hanger for an antenna,
    lay in each other's arms,
    and fell asleep.
    Douglas Goodwin and silent lotus like this.
  11. Douglas Goodwin

    Douglas Goodwin Remember

    Please publish this somewhere. Put it on the front page. Make it visible. I would never have found it if I hadn't gone spelunking. I know I don't get a vote. Fuck voting. Just put this out there.
    Best thing I've read in a long time.
    Jay Dougherty likes this.
  12. Douglas Goodwin

    Douglas Goodwin Remember

    Also, the best thing about your new forum is the reappearance of Julia Schott. She's even harder to find (and I do mean harder). I need to read more Julia Schott.
    Jay Dougherty likes this.
  13. Douglas Goodwin

    Douglas Goodwin Remember

    Best things.
    Jay Dougherty likes this.
  14. Jay Dougherty

    Jay Dougherty Mangling Member Editor

    Thanks, Doug.
  15. Daniel J. Flore III

    Daniel J. Flore III Well-Known Member Supporter


    Dear EIC,

    I know you’re not sending out rejections/acceptances until
    the submission call closes
    but since my poem was
    written in the form
    of a suicide note
    I was wondering if I could find
    out early about whether or not
    it was accepted
    because that note is real
    and I’m getting anxious
    I want to know if my final words
    are worthy of publication before I go


    Loyd W. Cobb