HeyJaredOdd Pocket Press
Odd Pocket Press publishes a wide variety of poems, reflecting different styles, themes and sensibilities. We welcome work from all people from all backgrounds. All we ask is that you send us high-quality, original writing that makes us gasp!
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 10
- Latest publication
- Sep 24, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Sep 12, 2026
Latest issues
Join Our Free Editing Workshop This Saturday (opens the original)
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Dear Friends, Poets and Readers,We’re looking for the freshest, most interesting, heart-felt poems for issue 3 of Odd Pocket Press. All poems will be considered for our 3rd issue contest, judged by Rita Mookerjee. Not sure what to send? Check out issues 1 and 2 to see the kind of work we’ve published before. Better yet, join us for our workshop “Less is More: What to Cut, Keep and Reimagine When Editing,” to learn what we (and other editors) look for in a publishable poem. Here are t
Princess Tibisay Sings the Andes (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedPrincess Tibisay Sings the Andes I carry Murachi with me. I carry his body in mine— and in my heart. I wander into the wilderness with the ashes of his bones under my tongue, rubbed into my hair. His murder becomes my song— condors circle above the Andes— an echo from one valley to another— my singing, the legend of Timoto-Cuica— my heart, a cracked vessel that will not break. They thought his death would silence
Thanks to Our Issue #2 Editors (opens the original)
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Behold! These are guest editors and contest judge for this issue! They are the readers and deciders, the ones who chose the poems I hope you have just read.Jose Hernandez Diaz, Contest Judge<img alt="Hernandez Diaz_Jose(
Issue # 2 (opens the original)
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Issue # 2, Fall 2026 <img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="630" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!gwht!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fc4e9eb7
Facta non verba (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedFacta non verba I can still see it now, my bikini hanging on a branch, the shock of skin in frigid water. I see her, the woman I’ve become now, emerging in those moments. A toe dipping into the murky unknown, silt giving way to another me. I didn’t know about her, then, that she was waiting to come to life. Back on my towel, still goosefleshed, I squirmed to find comfort, cutting my foot on a shell. My earliest memory is of
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