Milestones

Does It Have Pockets is officially one year old.

And what a year it has been. Last year, when the idea of DIHP crept up and nipped at my ear, I sat back and worried. It had been five years since I’d helmed a magazine. Was the time right? What if no one wanted another magazine? What if things had changed in that half decade so much that I no longer had the skills to do justice to the writers?  Most importantly, what if I couldn’t find that magic again?  There were a lot of reasons to shove the little dream of DIHP back down into the depths and busy myself with something else.

But there are rarely engraved invitations for our leaps into the unknown. So last May, I swallowed my apprehension and called my invaluable, former assistant editor, Angela Kubinec. Ang? I asked. Are you ready to try this again? The end of the last iteration had been a sudden, and as with so many sudden things, painful. I knew I had to build a team, but could I? Could I really be fortunate enough to find another beautiful group of writers, thinkers, creatives to build something with me?

Shortly after Ang agreed to once again don an editorial apron, I began to reach out to writers to let them know the mess I’d scrambled up. I reached out to Anne Anthony to reconnect, asking shyly if she’d like to send some work. She agreed, but what she really wanted, she replied, was to join us. An artist and a writer? I couldn’t believe my luck. A couple months later, we reached out to Grant Shimmin, a former contributor and gorgeous poet, who became our first international staffer. Another former contributor and tremendous writer, Jody Goch, joined us from Germany last summer. And Grey Litaker helps us through our heavier slush piles when he can from wherever he is (currently, I’m told, on a boat). I must’ve done something amazing in a past life to have been able to gather them all into one place.

I have always felt that the best creative groups coalesce organically, in a symbiotic sort of way. And I am over the moon each time I think about the DIHP staff — wry, witty, smart, challenging, and game to create a sort of pocket family. Willing to think and talk and argue and change and be changed, their intelligence, compassion, and experience have poured into the magazine. And so while Does It Have Pockets remains my dream, it has also become something else entirely. (There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.)

I couldn’t be more grateful. And humbled.

This month’s issue is incredibly special to us: Showcasing the beauty of the unseamly, we’ve got emails and poems and fabric; we’ve got allegory and simile and parody; we’ve got you and us and this publication. Thank you for coming along on this journey. Thanks to you, dear readers, writers, & friends, our hearts and are pockets are spilling with beauty.

Fiction

We’re thrilled to welcome back Will Willoughby, whose second Pockets contribution is “While I Have You,” a keen, epistolary glimpse into the arena of corporate culture with a right hook of an ending. Jude Pott’s “For sale, one womb, unused. Buyer collects.” is a weighty flash, aching and poetic, with just a smidgen of hope. In three starkly gorgeous short flashes from Eliana Megerman, we observe a body’s disappearing act, compare hearts to mangos, and visit the decisions made at little lending libraries. It’s the end of the world (or is it?) in Jessica R Cull’s lush, surreal beauty, “This Too May Kill Us.” And on the lighter side, Susan R. Morritt files a zinging satire where we “Behold! The Wrath of Gordon.”

Poetry

Christian Hanz Lozada joins us with two short, dense poems, with a stinging reminder “shame is chronicled in the oral tradition.” Two more poems from John Grey reveal the churn of daily life, an familiar exchanges where, “To each other / we’re the nightly news.” Gripping and hopeful, a four-poem cycle from Trish Hopkinson gives us an intimate seat alongside “a mother and son alone but for the hum / of machines and shuffling of strangers.” D Larissa Peters’ two poems are full of sound and smell and feel and taste and longing: “You’re my dandelion wish.” Two unwavering poems from Christina Ruotolo entwine nostalgia and trauma in myriad ways. And finally, two soft, odic poems from Joan Mazza, on the joys of vessels – “Let every container be filled with color” -- and notebooks, round out this month’s poetry offerings.

Creative Nonfiction

In a breathtaking dichotomy, Susan T. Landry’s May CNF is two landscapes from one expert painter or one expert landscape by two painters, but perhaps best explained by Anne asking, “How’d my hand come to rest on my heart while reading this?” This month’s second CNF piece is Debbie Feit’s wry and innovatively-framed prescription, “Take Two and Call Your Therapist in the Mourning:

Artwork

Multi-disciplinary artist Suzi Banks Baum joins us this month with her lush, tactile Story Cloth project. As she writes, “My Story Cloth reflects how I keep time with my needle.” A blend of story and the interconnected fabric of life, we’re deeply honored to present these pieces to you on our first birthday.

One Last Note

The May graphic on our home page comes courtesy of North Carolina artist, Loren Pease, who paints beautiful and bold murals. Thank you, Loren, for allowing us to share your art. To see more of her work, visit her website: https://sweetpease.com/.

Until June,

XO

April Flowers

I’ve been thinking a lot about the messiness of spring. How the new sunlight illuminates that which we’ve lost in the winter and concurrently gives us glimpses of the newness to come. Poetry holds this concept so nimbly, and it’s a wonderful confluence to be celebrating National Poetry Month this month. To celebrate, we’ll be hosting “Poem in Your Pocket Day” on our social media channels. If you’d like us to send you a fancy Does It Have Pockets logo sticker, all you’ll need to do is tag us with a photo of a poem in any old pocket, then DM us your mailing address. More on that later this month.

This month’s issue is a big one. We’re a month away from our first anniversary and this issue, our eleventh (!?), is absolutely brimming with brilliant work:

Poetry

Tom Barwell’s two poems from across the pond are pastoral and full of sound: “a chorus fruited by a far-off owl, so attuned to her note.” Two more poems from Jim Stewart zooms the lens out and out, where technology meets nature and wonders “if vectors still tell the story of our language.” “Admittedly Chaos ensued for some time” in three dizzyingly devastating pieces from David Sheskin. Mark J. Mitchell’s two poems are quiet, fully fledged stories in verse, and despite the hushed prose, “her bite’s quick and sharp.” Andrea Penner explores writing, our bodies, and all the shades of blue, “indigo, sung by midnight saxes, transposed sapphires.” elizabeth iannaci rounds out our poetry this month with two stunning pieces that dive into the ways “someone left a mark,” on the wet side of a whale or on our own human skin.

CNF & Artwork

We have two gorgeous nonfiction pieces this month. In “My Mother’s Furniture,” Julie R. Enszer writes a graceful inventory of her late mother’s house, weighing the things we take and those we leave behind, “I could have anything she owned but I wanted none of it.” Angela Townsend’s “Bones of the Shelter,” is a dynamic, first-person flurry of cats, ketones, and “a man called Laundry Tony is throwing towels overhead like terrycloth toddlers who yell, “do it again!”” J.I. Kleinberg’s Art & Hybrid entry is a beautiful, minimalist blend of collage and poetry, decontextualized fragments placed into conversation with one another.

Fiction

Our April fiction collection starts with Alyson’s Smith’s “Winter,” which delves into the Cabaret of an actor, their bodily contained dichotomy: “William Winter cries inside, Winta Wick drags him back to the stage.” David Galef’s “Two Streams” is a tiny, gorgeous flash full of the damp waterside and “feeling heavy or light but full of the stream that flowed through the day.” Kai Holmwood’s paean to Joan Didion, “Return to the Dam,” is a futuristic short, fantastically imagined where “the moment that should have been meaningful was peculiar in its ordinariness.” Cathy Ulrich surveys “the way you turn your head from side to side before you bend to pick up another broken thing,” the bereft sorrow of deflation in her micro “Something About a Balloon.” Bryan Vale’s “Rules for our Airbnb” reflates our hearts with a witty list full of portals to the unexpected, where we must remember “the entropy is no joke.” Finally, don’t miss Dana Hammer’s superlative “A Biting Clown,” where we join our ball-gagged protagonist in clown rehab and suffer through the “mandatory Clowning With Kindness Class, which is exactly what it sounds like.”

One last note: This month we mourn the loss of one of our canine assistants, Jessa, who lived a life full of love and friendship. Our team is sending her human, Jody, all the love and light we possibly can, even as we give thanks for having held Jessa in our midst. We hope you’ll hug your family, canine and otherwise, a bit tighter in her memory.

Until next month,

XO

Contest | Celebration

A Note on Prizes

The only thing more fraught than waiting for the results of a literary prize submission is the responsibility of judging said group of incredible writers.

If I could give you a window into the process, you would see writers championing writers, editors explaining their own experiences and emotions — pleading, cajoling, regrouping. If you were concerned that every contest is a numbers game, I can assure you, our meetings were as sanguine and garment-rending as a remote staff can manage (though no pockets were harmed in the process).

Our 2023 (One Hand in My) Pocket-Sized Fiction Prize winners were the ones that met us — humans just like you — where we are in our individual and collective journeys. A different group of judges would have selected an entirely different group of winners, as is reflected in the general submissions process. All this is to say that those not selected are not any less worthy of celebration, but simply stories we didn’t as intimately connect to at this time and place in our lives.

Entering any contest is an act of embracing the self-assurance and confidence to know you’ve said something worth saying. As judges, we deeply respect each and every writer and each and every entry. We would like to thank all our entrants for the opportunity to read and revel in your work. Thank you for being a part of this journey of celebration.

Congratulations to our winner, Kik Lodge, for her bone-rattling flash, “On the off-beat” and all of our runners up. We’ll see you next year.

Read all our prizewinning stories here.

And so we begin.

Back in 2018, I was the editor of a successful literary magazine. We weren’t large and we weren’t fancy, but I loved the interactions with writers, staff, and words. The publisher had their hands full with other projects, and the magazine was put on hiatus. I knew it was the end, but when I was offered the chance to take over the existing IP, life’s circumstances were busy having their way with me. Between grief and loss and chaos, it simply wasn’t time.

Does It Have Pockets has been an idea for a long while. And with its inception, I want to welcome literary misfits. And by that I probably mean most of us. Who hasn’t had at least one story that didn’t fit anywhere?

Welcome. Thanks for taking this journey with us.