Call for Submissions: Illustrations

Further opportunities at Long Exposure Magazine.
Long Exposure is looking to put together a list of artists to work with frequently who can respond to the writing published in the magazine, through painting/illustration, photography and other visual art forms, to be featured alongside the creative writing pieces in each issue. This is an opportunity for regular publication and promotion. If you are interested in this project please contact editor@longexposuremagazine.com with a brief introduction and a sample of your work or links to some examples. You can see the type of work the magazine has published so far here.

Long Exposure Issue 4: Call for Submissions

For the next issue, Long Exposure is opening up submissions to fiction, specifically very short fiction of 700 words or less. In previous issues we explored traditional short forms such as the haiku (Issue 2), and how an economy of language and sharpness of observation can heighten the impact on the reader by using a minimum of words.

Definitions for this type of fiction are various, and as such our criteria are broad. Whether your pieces lean towards a fluid and poetic style or want to focus on delivering an engaging narrative in a tight space, we would love to read your work.

As usual we are open to poetry submissions on any style or theme, but with a particular interest in the Ekphrastic genre or work which combines text and image, as well as to photography and art work and collaborative projects between writers and artists.

See previous issues for the type of work we have published to date.

If you have an idea for an essay or article, particularly on the relationship between creative writing and the visual arts, contemporary poetry and poetics, or the arts in education and society, contact the author to discuss.

All submissions and enquiries to: editor@longexposuremagazine.com

Full submissions guidelines.

We look forward to hearing from you!

The Moon’s not Just a Dirty Rock: A New Poem by Lesley Burt

We hurtle into a long tunnel:
windows reveal nothing beyond
reflections: people, red upholstery,
and windows reflecting the reflected.

In a magazine left on the table
among coffee rings, NASA reports
a rocket: to launch a moon crew,
using a single five-segment booster.

Astronauts will build lunar outposts,
pave the way for journeys to Mars;
its south pole will provide water, ice
and abundant sunlight for power.

The steward sways along the aisle
rattling refreshments on a trolley;
passengers drink, read, doze; trust
steel lines, solid earth, unseen driver.

We shoot out of blackness – where
blocks of flats loom higher than
street lamps and trees’ winter skeletons –
into the light of a yellow moon.

The Inking of a Story: A New Poem by Jane R. Rogers

First the stars
blocked in canary yellow
the stars are made of glass

next the mountains
deckled cool blue, an organic horizon
the mountains hiss of fear

next the desert
dunes ruched in ochre red shadows
the desert is the story of landscape

then a pitched tent – last onto the paper
solid night silhouette
secure enough to withstand a storm

where we recline on foreign bedding and listen in
to the unprinted white spaces and
ink the future.

For more of Jane’s work keep updated with Long Exposure Magazine, Issue 3, forthcoming.

A Display of Smoked Mackerel: A New Poem by Stephen Elves

(After Mark Doty)

Splendid in rows like the silvery dead
your afterlife now lit in amber
as if each caught fire then dived
into waves of crushed ice.

Your summer skin glows oiled bronze
a tiger-burnt patina of experience:
the shimmer of youthful flash
quietened by an old gold currency;

this is the whole fish, no etiolated fillet
slit from a bodybag –
the meat needs strong company
in a sweet glisten of horseradish.

The biggest fish catches my eye:
its white stare from a hollow socket
half-winks at me to unwrap its silk
chevrons, strip it to the nub.

I want its dark flesh: its eye,
drowning in dry air, wants mine.

 

For more of Stephen Elves’ work look out for the release of Long Exposure Magazine, Issue 3.

Two Poems by Lisa Kelly

Window on the Garden

Memory, my dear Cecily, is the diary that we all carry about with us.
– Oscar Wilde

The coal tit is being purposefully
epigrammatic,
its terse flight from hedge
to bike handlebar,
and seemingly off
only to be back on the bike briefly.

So many false promises
of departure, playing
with finality like a conifer seed
in its nippy beak, it revels
in its mastery of reprieve
with flippant swerves,

in a black bow tie and wing collar,
it deflects
each drawn-out ending,
a sunflower seed
raided from a forgotten hoard.
Passerine bird
with three toes facing forward,
and one backward –

able to cling to the vertical
without falling out
of the picture,
you are impossible to frame. This urge
to cup you like a soft bollock and squeeze,
is wrong, in a nutshell

but your pithy nature;
the impossibility of boiling down
spirit into sweetmeat
makes a play of thwarted possession:
agog to count
the freckles on your eggs
in their nest in a mouse hole,
to pop one in my mouth
and keep it forever, far from teeth.

 

 

Mammogram

This sky ceiling has been kindly donated
by Patricia Madden Cancer Trust

Look up sister! Six blue squares,
but only one is clear, as cirrus clouds
permanently gather in the other five.
Look at the poster sister! A man
manages colour-coded strings,
so his gown doesn’t gape.
Look down sister! Flip
through a torn magazine.
See the ads: Breast Feeding is Best;
How to Enhance a Small Cleavage.
Look this nurse straight in the eye sister!
Smile. What are the odds you’re next?
Attention sister! All mammography patients
please remove deodorant or talcum powder
from the upper half of your body.
Look sister! If you have sensitive
breasts, this may hurt. Look up sister!
Outside, a black sky hangs open,
the moon impersonates a breast.