Submissions

Submitting to Conjunctions
All submissions from writers and literary agents in the US should be directed by mail to the editorial office:
Bradford Morrow, Editor
Conjunctions 
21 East 10th St., #3E
New York, NY 10003

Simultaneous submissions will not be considered.

In order to receive a response, you must enclose a self-addressed envelope stamped with sufficient postage for our reply and for return of your ms (if you request that).
If you could also include your email address in your cover letter, that would be most appreciated. Allow twelve weeks for our reply before querying.

Please do not send submissions by any delivery method that requires a signature, and do please be sure that your SASE is an appropriate size for return of your materials.

Writers located outside the US may submit via email with a clear indication of the country from which they are sending.

Our biannual print/e-book issues are generally themed. Find out more about the theme and reading period for the issue in progress. We cannot predict when a given issue will close to new work, but we typically read into August for our fall issues and into February for our spring issues. Upon occasion, issues close prior to that.

We read year-round for the weekly online magazine, which is not subject to thematic restrictions.

We accept short- and long-form fiction, poetry, and creative non-fiction. We do not accept academic essays or publish book reviews. Although we have no official restrictions regarding word count, we ask that writers use common sense when it comes to sending extremely long work or multiple works.

Please do not send synopses or writing samples and ask us to indicate interest; just send the work itself.

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Submissions

In Print

Vol. 72
Nocturnals
Spring 2019
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Online

A Selected Text from Conjunctions:72, Nocturnals
May 16, 2019
In agitation along sleep’s surface

dreams the monster, the angular, the slimy, the anything goes, the corpse

who strokes the tigers with rather weak jaws

in a jump cut, on an icy blue couch, red queen

on mute––
May 14, 2019
Though no one is watching, an opening in the hedges reveals a gap where entry is possible.
Inside, an entity multiplies, but how can I know this. The broodself is invisible and smells like
before, which is the only way to know that it happened. It crawls out in unknown ways on
unknown legs, identical because there is no other form or sound.
A Selected Text from Conjunctions:72, Nocturnals
May 9, 2019
What they had in common was they were smokers; everyone was a smoker then. Those three, though, they smoked to live. Cigarettes! There the cigarette would be, raised to the lips. The lips opening, only a little. The smoke drifting across the roof of the mouth. The lungs filling—this is how they recognized one another, in the green sea, green as grass, by streams of water green as glass.
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