Parcel

• submit

  A great Parcel of Earth is every Year carried into the Sea.

  PARCEL is a non-profit online journal that publishes innovative poetry, prose, artwork, essays, and reviews. Long poems, collaborations and works from a series are especially welcome. Featured visual artists will be solicited until further notice, though feel free to send queries. Chapbook submissions will be solicited from past journal contributors only.

  Submissions & Queries

  To be considered send up to 10 pages of poetry or prose to:

  Parcel
  c/o Andrea Rexilius
  2174 S. Grant St.
  Denver, Co 80210

  or submit by email at editor@parceljournal.org. Please include SUBMISSION in the subject line.

  Submissions are read year-round. New parcels will appear every 4 months.

• chapbooks

  Chapbooks are homemade & hand-stitched.

  The Holy Spirit does not deal in synonimes
  transcribed by Lisa Fishman

  (sonnets for the fall) by Nate Pritts

  Hem/Home by Andrea Rexilius Sold Out

  Like Barn Burners Like Technicolor by Olivia Cronk (CD) Sold Out

  The Blue City by Anne Heide

  Fool Thing by Olivia Cronk Sold Out

  To order a chapbook send $5 (this covers the cost for materials & postage) and your name and address to:

  Parcel Chapbooks
  c/o Andrea Rexilius
  2174 S. Grant St.
  Denver, CO 80210

• featured artist/s

  PARCEL features visual artists, filmmakers, sound artists or any variety of these, in each new issue. If you are interested in becoming a featured artist, please send a query with a brief description of your work to editor@parceljournal.org.

  Parcel Three features Noah Saterstrom and William Clements.

  Parcel Two features Matthew Gottschalk and Bin Ramke.

  Parcel One features Elizabeth Dorbad.

• links
  • Bird Dog
  • Bookslut
  • CAB/NET
  • Drunken Boat
  • horse less press
  • How2
  • Minor American
  • 1913
  • Press Press Press
  • to the sound
  • Wildlife Poetry Magazine

by Olivia Cronk

Bingo Hall, Stage

It's a coronation up in here.
Vulgar organ. Rock ring heart.
America: lick my pie, lick it tart.
& Lenin's girl does Swell Bone Mania:
     Oh, swarthy one, clouds are only on.
     The universe's sweet switchboard shines
     & that cranky wooden bee wouldn't be
     so damned fine without his "sure do, honey"
     & in the meanwhile . . .
a chain at the bottom of the dress tinkles with every step.
     & lately lately lately
I hear my lambs croon real cool, right up in my bad ear,
singing: hear here:
     Vulgar organ. Rock ring heart.