"An indie Latino literary magazine dedicated to art that is colorful, whimsical, and monstrous."
Open:
Yes
Vibe: Send us your best but less intimidating
Response time:
1 day-1 month
Payment:
No
Simultaneous submissions:
Yes
Previously published:
Yes
Submission fee:
Free
Expedited submissions:
No
Available in print:
No
Examples online:
Yes

Important stuff

Seeks to amplify and publish specifically Latino voices
Make you feel at home: cozy, meme-friendly, a sense of community, all that stuff
Active on social media
Accept previously published: "Note this in your submission and tell us the publication we need to acknowledge. Unpublished pieces will be given priority."
Promote writers even after publication - hype hype hype
Helpful: reposting other opportunities on their Twitter:)
Features only Latino artists

Genres

👌

Fiction

Max pieces: 2Max two flash fiction pieces
👌

Nonfiction

Max pieces: 2
👌

Poetry

Max pieces: 5
👌

Art

Max pieces: 5
👌

Photography

Max pieces: 5

Examples

'ALTARPIECE' by rebecca herrera

(excerpt)
a plastic LED candle is the only light in abuela’s bedroom, illuminating the space like a chapel thick with prayers and intention. her nightstand is an altar, tonight- just for tonight. i’m the one she pulls aside for these secrets. in this photo her brothers on the brooklyn bridge, bell bottoms and dark brown hair curled up in a thousand roses. the moon swells over us like a crown.
Read the full piece in the magazine

'LECHE Y MIEL' by melissa nunez

(excerpt)
“I’m thirsty,” he tells me. His voice once full of tenacious timbre, a kiskadee call leading the lost to his pulpit perch, now puling, hollow as his mouth, lips curved over the place his teeth once were. I lean in close to hear it. His hands are constant frenetic motion up by his chest as if clutching something—perpetually on the brink of slipping away—close to his heart. His joints, pinzas abandonadas al suelo, won’t relax anymore, elbows always bent, fingers always clenched. When my grandfather first moved to the nursing home, he would spend his days in the hallways, arms extended to the sky, tethered by an invisible rope, and when asked by the staff or other passersby what he was doing he would tell them he was saving the world. He was keeping our planet on its axis, in orbit—solo su fuerza prevented us from floating away into empty space. Sigue luchando.
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'IN THE MIRROR' by alejandra medina

(excerpt)
Ever since you left, I see fragments of you in the mirror. That glint you had in your eyes every time you did something mischievous, like when you began to grill chiles on the parilla, knowing very well we’d all start to cough, throwing the windows wide open and running out into the hall while you smiled to yourself over the stove, unbothered—I have it here. The lines you had around your mouth, the curve of your brow, your lips. I see you in the jacket I am wearing, your eyes in each button, your smile in every stitch. I’ll probably wear this until I burst through the seams, just because you were the one that gave it to me. Even the way your hair used to flow—or rather, stood up, so straight it stuck out as if a storm was approaching—I see it in that woman there, the one I’ve become. I wear it in braids too. That’s how you tried to tame it back then, before it fell out and you began to wear those hats you’d knit.
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'INSOMNIA' by fran fernández arce

(excerpt)
‘Four in the morning, it wakes me up. Four forty, it keeps me awake. I cradle the heat pack one more time, shaking those wheat grains and dried lavender petals into awareness. The heat soothes my left shoulder blade like a finite comfort and so, it keeps me awake. Sitting up in bed, the soft tapping of the rain against the bedroom windows mimics the quiet walking of a stranger searching for our door. I seem to be dreaming in another language where every creak and midnight moan speaks to me in suspicion. The thought of intruders at night keeps me awake too. Around six in the morning, it lets me go but sleep does not let itself creep all over me like a soft drop of consciousness, a mantle of obscurity coming to engulf me.
Read the full piece in the magazine

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