On Winter and Submissions Guidelines
It is my privilege to curate Jarfly Magazine.
Through this work, I have the luxury of reading incredible and touching poems and the honor of sharing them with others. I am honored to release this new winter issue and share these voices, stories, and perspectives with you. In assembling this issue, I was touched by the tenderness, warmth, and perseverance of these poems. Many of these poems deal with grief and the tragedies of loss, and they remind me of the winters of life where we endure the piercing cold of absence and solitude. And yet, speaking to these feelings and experiences is such a symbol of strength and resilience in the face of things otherwise unspeakable. For me, the poems of Jarfly’s fourth issue represent the contradiction of winter: despite the often overwhelming pressures of the cold, we still have a heart that pulses relentlessly — warm, insistent.
All this, and yet I am alive.
I am reminded of literary magazine’s submission guidelines and how, often, they are practically meaningless. In the trenches and grottoes of this work of poetry, what does any given editor want? Because I run this magazine by myself, I have tried to speak to this literary direction as honestly as I can, but I understand that it is often difficult to assess whether a magazine is a good match. However, in putting this issue together and writing about how I understand it for this letter, I am reminded again about the poetry that I am most drawn to.
I am so invested in what makes us human. I want to read about how differently we experience ourselves, our families, our worlds. My own experience is limited by a number of things, and I firmly believe that poetry has the capacity and promise of revealing more of others and ourselves to us. As I read submissions, I find myself looking for reflections on the things that define us, on the indelible wrinkles that make up our subjectivities. I read in search of questions more than answers, of carefully crafted imagery that changes our I understand others and the world. I’m looking for tenderness and care.
Perhaps this monologue isn't helpful in any practical sense, but upon this reflection, the poems in this issue stand out to me because of their tenderness and how they carefully hold onto the world around them. I am delighted to share them with you, and I hope that they mean as much to you as they have to me.
Thank you,
Ian C. Williams
Jarfly Magazine Editor-in-Chief
Through this work, I have the luxury of reading incredible and touching poems and the honor of sharing them with others. I am honored to release this new winter issue and share these voices, stories, and perspectives with you. In assembling this issue, I was touched by the tenderness, warmth, and perseverance of these poems. Many of these poems deal with grief and the tragedies of loss, and they remind me of the winters of life where we endure the piercing cold of absence and solitude. And yet, speaking to these feelings and experiences is such a symbol of strength and resilience in the face of things otherwise unspeakable. For me, the poems of Jarfly’s fourth issue represent the contradiction of winter: despite the often overwhelming pressures of the cold, we still have a heart that pulses relentlessly — warm, insistent.
All this, and yet I am alive.
I am reminded of literary magazine’s submission guidelines and how, often, they are practically meaningless. In the trenches and grottoes of this work of poetry, what does any given editor want? Because I run this magazine by myself, I have tried to speak to this literary direction as honestly as I can, but I understand that it is often difficult to assess whether a magazine is a good match. However, in putting this issue together and writing about how I understand it for this letter, I am reminded again about the poetry that I am most drawn to.
I am so invested in what makes us human. I want to read about how differently we experience ourselves, our families, our worlds. My own experience is limited by a number of things, and I firmly believe that poetry has the capacity and promise of revealing more of others and ourselves to us. As I read submissions, I find myself looking for reflections on the things that define us, on the indelible wrinkles that make up our subjectivities. I read in search of questions more than answers, of carefully crafted imagery that changes our I understand others and the world. I’m looking for tenderness and care.
Perhaps this monologue isn't helpful in any practical sense, but upon this reflection, the poems in this issue stand out to me because of their tenderness and how they carefully hold onto the world around them. I am delighted to share them with you, and I hope that they mean as much to you as they have to me.
Thank you,
Ian C. Williams
Jarfly Magazine Editor-in-Chief