"An award-winning literary journal that generates interactive conversations around poetry and art by reforming the way journals are produced and shared. Lucky Jefferson is proud to feature poets and writers who have never been published, marginalized perspectives, and those who sought to pursue writing later in life."
Vibe: Send us your best but less intimidating
Response time:
4-6 weeks
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Important stuff

Active on social media
Pays! "$15/ea accepted work for poets submitting to ‘Awake’, our digital zine for Black authors"
Offer expedited response: 48 hours
Reposting helpful info to their Twitter:)
Available in print




Max words: 1000


Max pieces: 3


'A Boy Ago' by Nnadi Samuel

We learnt the waters the length of our teenage year, brother and I. call me kayak in that lazy drift. call him the paddle wheel. Two of us— a perfect duo, racing past bison and tulips, past the sainted mist. once, I attempt speaking-in-tongues and brother cupped my incoherence in seraph palms, the way you size a demon before casting it out.
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'where god is called the Name' by Alex Baskin

uring torah reading, we played lion king/ zig-zagging in the coat room, we were cave hyenas swaddled, draped, enveloped in found layers/ in spring, it was handball in the parking lot/ there were dark glass doors but familiar suits shuffled in through the side/ the ceiling was low, not high/ the shul’s carpet was green and worn/
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'Down on Grafton St.' by Matt Gillick

This is a walk home in early morning fog after rainfall. Step by step, the cobblestones remind me to stay sober. Excuse me—pardon— watch it—watch out— keep walking—I said move along— She’ll be mad at me for being out all night, I know it.
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'Colonel Mustard & the Dijon 5' by Kelly Konya

In one version: there’s a Scottish band playing upstairs and we swarm it like flies / windows darken, the singer clad in yellow / we laugh so delighted, this happenstance as longed-for as air underwater / I can’t stop spilling beer on your shoes / the singer strains to tell us everything about living free / but we can only dance, tripping over our feet like philistines.
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