Terms & Conditions

When you submit text to The Literary Bohemian you agree to the following:

1. This submission is your original, previously unpublished work. It does not appear on any publicly accessible printed or online medium. 

2. The Literary Bohemian has first rights to work submitted, which will revert to you, the author, immediately upon publication. If your work will be published elsewhere, you will credit first publication to The Literary Bohemian, i.e. First published in The Literary Bohemian, issue number.

3. The Literary Bohemian has nonexclusive rights to publish and use your work, in whole or in part, by electronic means without limitation over the internet, and will archive your work indefinitely.

4. The Literary Bohemian will enable your work to appear on online venues such as Poetry Daily, Verse Daily or Best of the Net, and may enter your work in competitions for Best American Poetry,The Pushcart Prize, or StorySouth’s Million Writers AwardThe Literary Bohemian will make every effort to contact you, the author, if an award or distinction is granted.

5. If your work is accepted for publication, you will be asked to supply an author’s photo. The Literary Bohemian may edit or adjust your author’s bio, due to space limitations. 

Thank you for entrusting your work to The Literary Bohemian. We will carefully consider each piece, and let you know the outcome as soon as possible. If your work is accepted elsewhere, accept our congratulations and contact us immediately through Submittable. Please do not query until three (3) months have passed.


May the road rise to greet you,

Carolyn Harris Zukowski
The Literary Bohemian

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    Screensaver

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    The bill in question is actually a 2,000 West African franc note, and it’s the equivalent of about four U.S. dollars. A helpful sum, really, but as I clutch the weathered crinkle in my sweaty palm, its value feels as dirty as the grime that is undoubtedly being transferred to my fingers.

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    to Egg and Berry brewery, to the pack / of Czechy words I made but didn’t work / in this pink town. I’d readily go back / to your best spots, the unfired gun, that perk //

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    And if the neap tides of my beauty / sadden him, I cannot help it: / I hang high, the waxy night light …

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Read more Poetry or Postcard Prose