Panatrope Arts Journal

More soon!

Thank you for submitting your writing! Now that the submission period has ended, the editors have begun the process of reading. We like to take our time doing this important step and we appreciate your patience. We are finding a lot of good writing!

Call for Work

Deadline August 31, 2026

Wildwood River Press is announcing a new annual anthology of literary and political writing, Panatrope. We invite you to submit writing about what sustains you, about what has marked you, about where you are from and what has made you.

Poetry: up to 5 pages
Short Fiction or nonfiction: between 400-5000 words.

Use standard 12 point font and formatting. .doc, .docx, html, pdf or txt. Attach to an email with a short bio, contact information, and a short introduction to your submission.

Send unpublished, original work. Please no AI generated writing. We want your gritty and real voice.

Send to this email: submissions@panatrope.work.

About us

Wildwood River Press

Founded in 2008, Wildwood River Press is a confluence of the arts. This artist-run collaborative creates cross-media exhibitions and live performances. We publish creative work on the web and in print using open-source tools. Our themes center around watershed, ecologies, languages, confluences, soil, tangled roots, geology, landscape, rivers, turbulence, and flows,

We are interested in contemporary issues, intertextual research, multi-genre experimentation, open access, and public arts. We explore alternative modes of bookmaking, publishing, and presentation. Our press (our mill) blends wood, wire, resin, pitch, thread, ink, grammar, syntax, algorithm, text/code to produce sound recordings, film, generative new media, and print books.

email: create@wildwoodriver.com
website: wildwoodriver.com

Panatrope

email: hello@panatrope.work
submissions:submissions@panatrope.work
website: panatrope.work

Panatrope reference: NOW~ the Complete Musical Scale ~ by Electricity!

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Highlight from our Journal

My Geology

by Sheila Packa

I excavate these words from a vein of iron
from stones broken
beneath old growth
from the open pit — lit by dynamite
by men whose lives are punctuated by midnights
who drive new cars to the plant,
the Crusher and Agglomerator,
and later suffer mesothelioma.
I drive in acid rain
my compass gone awry
over Proterozoic layers with four wheel drive
These words are test drills and core samples
from the Boundary Waters
these words wrung from the whistles
and wheels that turn
and have never projected into board rooms.
I have yet to wield these powers or capitalize.
I have yet to see the returns.
I claim my words from the broken
English, damaged roots,
Finnish syntax, and geomagnetic fields
from Eminent Domain
and small print, unreadable clauses.
I find my vowels
from labor contracts and mine dumps
factories and invisible contamination.
My words, in the run off
in open streams — oxidize
form like tree rings
in industrial circles
heat in the smelters, pour like lava into steel
form these rails that carry the trains
these trains that carry this freight.

from Night Train Red Dust