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For the duration of the month of March, the poetry department is temporarily closing to new submissions. The submission portal will reopen on April 1. If you’ve been sending us poetry for many years, you already know it’s ordinary for us to take a month off every year or two, often in December, so we can get caught up on a backlog or focus on another project or have a vacation. This is that.

It’s usually something we note on our poetry submissions guidelines page, and maybe in a tweet, but given the unexpected submissions closure at Clarkesworld this week (read more in this detailed post by Clarkesworld editor Neil Clarkeand since it falls on the same day our Wuxia/Xianxia special issue ends its limited submissions window and since we’re reopening on April Fools’ Day, it seemed prudent to say explicitly that it’s a coincidence and not a pattern.

So far, Strange Horizons has not seen any big spikes in chatbot-generated submissions. It’s also true that in the time period discussed in Neil’s post, we have not been open to general fiction submissions; we’ve been looking at poetry and at a limited-demographic submissions call. (We do sometimes publish poems that use automation or prediction or collage or statistical noise, which is a longstanding tradition in poetry going back at least as far as Dada. We are less interested in predictive-text essays or short stories.) We’re keeping an eye on it and will let you know if our experience changes.



Romie Stott is the administrative editor and a poetry editor of Strange Horizons. Her poems have appeared in inkscrawl, Dreams & Nightmares, Polu Texni, On Spec, The Deadlands, and Liminality, but she is better known for her essays in The Toast and Atlas Obscura, and a microfiction project called postorbital. As a filmmaker, she has been a guest artist of the National Gallery (London), the Institute of Contemporary Art (Boston), and the Dallas Museum of Art. You can find her fairly complete bibliography here.
Current Issue
22 Jul 2024

By: Mónika Rusvai
Translated by: Vivien Urban
Jadwiga is the city. Her body dissolves in the walls, her consciousness seeps into the cracks, her memory merges with the memories of buildings.
Jadwiga a város. Teste felszívódik a falakban, tudata behálózza a repedéseket, emlékezete összekeveredik az épületek emlékezetével.
Aqui jaz a rainha, gigante e imóvel, cada um de seus seis braços caídos e abertos, curvados, tomados de leves espasmos, como se esquecesse de que não estava mais viva.
By: Sourav Roy
Translated by: Carol D'Souza
I said sky/ and with a stainless-steel plate covered/ the rotis going stale 
मैंने कहा आकाश/ और स्टेनलेस स्टील की थाली से ढक दिया/ बासी पड़ रही रोटियों को
By: H. Pueyo
Translated by: H. Pueyo
Here lies the queen, giant and still, each of her six arms sprawled, open, curved, twitching like she forgot she no longer breathed.
Issue 15 Jul 2024
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Issue 27 May 2024
Issue 20 May 2024
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