Stephanie Kaylor is a writer from upstate New York. She holds a MA in Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies from the University at Albany and is currently finishing a MA in Philosophy at the European Graduate School. Stephanie is Reviews Editor for Glass: A Journal of Poetry and her poetry has appeared in a number of journals including BlazeVOX, The Willow Review, and altpoetics.

Glass: A Journal of Poetry publishes reviews and interviews on a rolling basis.

Reviews Guidelines

Glass is interested in reviews of poetry books, chapbooks and anthologies, with a preference for small and micro press publications and for works written by underprivileged voices. Reviews should generally be around 500 to 1,000 words (though we will make exceptions for strong pieces that fall outside of these parameters) and should represent a deep engagement with the text.

Please send unsolicited, completed reviews as a .doc or .docx file to the Glass Reviews Editor, Stephanie

In addition to reviews of works published within the past 12 months, Glass is interested in reviews for our #tbt series that highlights small and micro press publications from 5+ years ago. Submissions for this series should be indicated as such in the cover letter.

Reviews queries should be addressed to the Glass Reviews Editor, Stephanie Kaylor:

Note from Reviews Editor, Stephanie Kaylor:

Thanks so much for your interest in a review! To see reviews we've previously published, check out our archives page.

Reviews are usually 500-1000 words, but anything above 400 is fine for us. Get as creative as you want; it can be a formal review, a poetic response, whatever you think is best. We aren't on a tight schedule, but reviews completed in a month or so upon you receiving the book would be great (I say that knowing things happen, and plan on 2 months).

Print books available:

Field Guide to Autobiography by Melissa Eleftherion, H_NGM_N, 2017. "skin in the pale sheets / young a yellow brown tinged red / crunching through / the soft memory of tomorrow"

Landlocked: Etymology of Whale-Fish and Grace by Danelle Lejeune, Finishing Line Press, 2017. "We have calculated, balanced / checkbooks, bleary-eyed, through / coffee and diesel fuel / trying to make sense of lands, / topography neither wants to see."

What Urge Will Save Us by Alina Pleskova, Spooky Girlfriend Press, 2017. "Nothing's nailed down in this liminal space / of torpor & grope // Limp parts left out in case of mood lifts // Drape swell & recede"

E-Books available:

See any you're interested in from Hyacinth Girl Press? They're badass. Let me know and any of them can be sent to you as an e-book.

She May Be A Saint by Sarah Nichols, Hermeneutic Chaos Press, 2016. 23 pages.
"I remember / Pain. // Old ground, / Moving and rubbing, // A hotel of / Relapse."

Obsidion Blues by Herman Beavers, 2017. Agape Editions. "not like momma, / with her head rags, dingy white shirts rolled / up to the elbows, always complaining / of the cold"


Have archive fever? Want to bring back the poetry of yester-year? For this series we're throwing it back to poetry from 2012 or earlier — pieces that may have been forgotten with time, or simply warrant another shoutout. Reviews on any collections you want to highlight are always welcome, though we favor works from the small presses or authors outside of the cannon over, say, a take on Walt Whitman. We'd also be happy to mail you any of these titles for a #TBT review:

Distilled! and a Northern Elegy by Kenyatta JP Garcia, Scintilla Conscire Press, 2011.
"The Scintilla Conscire is the spark of conscious(ness). This idea is in direct opposition to the stream of consciousness. Sometimes a line comes and that is it and at other times a stanza. So, after a few years of fragments and half-begun poems, it became my process to connect the sparks as movements of a larger poem or let the sparks remain as a flash all alone to become a short poem. It happened that some of these scintillas put together came to resemble a flame and others were merely a spastic bit of poetry. Both were fine for awhile until it was time to revise. Then I started seeing redundancies and inessential words even in these small pieces."

Afterwards by Amy Bartlett, Persea Books 1985.
"He wraps each misfortune / around himself, and holds it against me, / while thoughts of his past / turn on their own above our bed."

Believe it or not by Jean Monahan, Orchises Press 1999.
"Praise for my pink madonna. / The spouts on her milk-mountain / taste like cotton. She is an abalone / shell turned inside-out, a bristly / blanket."

Unbeknownst by Julie Hanson, University of Iowa Press 2012.
"Sometimes I tell my husband things completely without thinking / as if the items in my day were dishes rinsed and slipped into the washer after lunch / and forgotten for all afternoon as they cycle through sani-wash and rinse and dry"

A Question of Blue Tulips by Nadine Brummer, Shoestring Press 1999.
"Head, hands, genitals and feet / are main events — he does them well. / Excess between is fleshed, like meat."

Dreams like Heretics by Alison Fell, Serpent's Tail 1997.
"I live in the noise / of idiot anthems, / in the dark below the self / where the faithful / cross their fingers"