67 moons. an endless storm. a great red spot amidst a sea of unmuted rage. after three months pouring over submissions from a variety of talented writers, we have finally come to the Jupiter Review’s inaugural publication.

 

this lit mag began as an experimental fever-dream more than anything. our first social media account, our twitter, was created on december 24th at 2am. when i first registered the handle “JupiterReview,” i eagerly awaited christmas morning beneath a mountain of blankets, hardly imagining the magnitude of which it would evolve. in three months, our staff of four poetry editors, two prose editors, and one lonely art editor evaluated 269 (!!!!) submissions to bring us issue i of the Jupiter Review, somehow (despite my everlasting fear of deadlines) providing unique feedback to each individual submitter.

 

now, we are here. though i assume editors are supposed to walk through or “preview” the magazine in their letters, i’ll leave that work to you, dear reader. instead, i'll cut this letter short, leave all that is unpoetic, let the ink run riot and give you the greatest gift i can offer: incredible work from 26 amazing artists, emotions and words and metaphors that are nothing if not raw, violent, unrelentingly real.

 

despite my continued redrafting of this letter, there is really nothing left to say. though i love to be arrogant about my own writing (if you know, you know) i'll let our submitters’ work speak for itself. i always say there is a “great red spot” in every writer, by which i mean when we create art, we emancipate ourselves, enact our own liberation, perform our most intimate and rebellious truths.

 

as always, i am fond of cliches: existence is violence. art is violence. these are the greatest joys we know. 

 

welcome to the Jupiter Review.

 

with love,

Ari Lohr

founder and editor-in-chief, Jupiter Review

​

please note: we strongly advise viewing issue i on a computer, not a phone, for the best reading experience