Thursday, July 2, 2026
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Waiting for the Bombs
I. I keep waiting for the bombs to fall, jarred awake nights by questions flashing Apocalypto on the screens (too many screens), only ever one cat meme away from nuclear…
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Waiting for the Bombs
I. I keep waiting for the bombs to fall, jarred awake nights by questions flashing Apocalypto on the…
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Sitting In
1. There’s a man up the valley who will ride any horse—a warmblood, an ex-racer, a rescue, a…
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Depravity Begins (A Found Poem)
Thinking of love / as a radical act. An eclipse of moths. A man without dust on him.…
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An Open Letter from Gregg Popovich to Tim Duncan
When I met you, you were tall and young, not long removed from swimming dreams, and your eyes…
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Bill & Nada’s, Salt Lake City, Utah
Do you remember your first cup of coffee at Bill & Nada’s in downtown Salt Lake City, Utah,…
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Self-portrait as period
……………………………………………………… ……………………………………………………… ……………………………………………………… …………………………………………Was told I’d know the full stop when I saw it…………………………………….Unlike the traitor’s footprints covered…
Mortality Mediated
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A Team of Mules
My grandad’s father John Speed Stephens Jr. was the son of an Irish immigrant, and as a fourteen-year-old, he became the pioneer who planted the Stephens in Indian territory, pre-Oklahoma.…
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San Antonio Review
Volume 7.2
Winter 2024
Winter 2024
Volume 7.2 · Winter 2024
A season of difficult light
Fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and art that lingers after reading.
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Open for Submissions
We publish work that
stays with you.
stays with you.
San Antonio Review accepts fiction, nonfiction, poetry, and art on a rolling basis. We read everything we receive and respond to every submission.
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