Upcoming Issue
For all its darkness, night can be the most illuminating time of day. Sometimes restful, sometimes restive, night is the domain of dreamers and insomniacs, lovers and thieves, prayers and despair, insights and perplexities. Just as the early bird stirs at daybreak, twilight is the dawn of night owls. Bats, cats, and whip-poor-wills are abroad after dusk, as are security guards, long-haul truck drivers, midnight cowboys, servers at the twenty-four-hour roadside diner. It’s the season of vampires, demons, and ghosts, but also of stargazers, ravers, and the philosopher who burns the midnight oil.

Night is the time of noir, of tranquility, of blitzes, of moonstruck affections; the time of fugue states and nightwalkers, of sleepers tucked in bed and those headed to their night-shift jobs. Neon, candles, street lamps, and the moon are lights of the night; jazz and opera, crickets and coyotes its soundtrack. Scheherazade spun her stories for a thousand and one nights, leaving each unfinished as dawn broke, promising the sultan she would finish the story after the sun set next, thereby saving her life. Night tales can be like that—captivating, evocative, mysterious, inexhaustible, piercing the gloom with incandescence. They can be narratives of dread and dislocation, but also longing and hope.

Conjunctions:72, Nocturnals gathers fiction, poetry, and essays by some of our most innovative writers, both emerging and established, on the theme of night, its denizens and its chronicles. Contributors will include Carmen Maria Machado, Rick Moody, Brian Evenson, Frederic Tuten, James Morrow, Cecily Parks, Steven Potter, Sallie Tisdale, and many others.

Between now and January 15th, please mail your provocative, innovative, risk-taking fiction, poetry, and narrative nonfiction to our editorial office:

Bradford Morrow, Editor
21 East 10th Street, 3E
New York, NY 10003

Please do not send your work to us via email, unless you are currently outside the US.

Click here for other important guidelines. We look forward to reading your work!



In Print

Vol. 70
Sanctuary: The Preservation Issue
Spring 2018
Edited by Bradford Morrow


October 23, 2018
Even though I was a couple of floors below on the sidewalk, I thought I recognized her from long ago when I, or we, lived in another country. But I heard she’d died—nothing confirmed, but I’d been told as much, and yet, what do you do with this but try to forget that the person is real, forget that they may still be moving through life.
October 16, 2018
The knife was raised
before there was an after.
He cried out, “Stop, stop!
“My name means laughter.”
October 9, 2018
It was his mother’s necklace, so it had value to him, more value to him than probably to his wife. It was meant for a woman though, so he couldn’t wear it.