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Vol 16 West End Avenue.jpg


Vol 16-Hudson River.jpg


editors' note

The king is dead. Long live the king.


Between the last issue of J Journal and this, there’s change: from here on we’re all in online. We’ll miss print; we like the smell of paper and the feel of the page, but what we really want is to reach beyond the short arm of the bound book. We love what we publish, and we want more readers. And we hope readers will make the new J Journal site a go-to.

With the new site, a shift from the ordered gestalt of a traditional TofC. Read where you are—a poem between subway stops, a longer story with a coffee, the whole thing on a flight to Seattle. Lately, we’re seeing (and publishing) more hybrid work, more flash pieces that put mood over meaning, more prose poems that break into paragraphs, more voices that move less linearly. We‘re thrilled to see these experimental pieces alongside the closed-form poems and conservatively-arced stories we’ll continue to publish. What hasn’t changed is J Journal’s thinking about justice, with the tangential (as in approaches) still our guide after fifteen years.


New site. New readers. New work. And an appeal: since our metric is no longer a subscription base but acknowledgment on social media, we ask you to take a minute (right now, if you can) to follow us on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and to nudge readers you know to follow us as well. We don’t charge for submissions. We work on a shoestring allocation to keep the site running. The only way we can ensure continuity (and a working budget) is by numbers on social media. In this done-with-cash world, numbers are income, so please “buy in.” Thank you!

Adam Berlin, Jeffrey Heiman

New York City

March 2023

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and read the
spring 2023 issue

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