Categories are fictions invented for taxonomical purposes, and are included here simply for ease of use. We put no stock in them. 

What we do care about: sentences so sharp they draw blood; the strange and inexplicable; the wild and weird and uncanny; words in thickets, clusters, and flocks; pieces that move us beyond caring what others think about said pieces.

In short: if you've written something and don't know what to call it, we want to see it. Our menagerie is vast and unending, and contains all size and shape of curios. 

Let yours be one of them.

—The Editors

You might call this the truth, but you might not. It may or may not contain: passive-aggressive statements, borrowed misery for wallowing in, unwarranted optimism in the face of disaster, notes for self-preservation during your next breakdown, various items you've overheard but can't make sense of, lists of no apparent purpose, etc. You may or may not care. But no matter what, it should be wild, entertaining, and make us feel like we've been entrusted with a secret we're dying to share.

You might call this a poem, but you might not. It may or may not be lineated. It may or may not contain: daggers, people you know, amphetamines, corrugated cardboard, mementos, things of little intrinsic value, lists of no apparent purpose, etc. You may or may not care. But no matter what, it should be wild, entertaining, and knock us flat.

You might call this a story, but you might not. It may or may not contain: tourniquets, drinks made in coconut shells, people you want to know but don't, lies of immense importance, self-aggrandizing behavior, characters of the invented variety, lists of no apparent purpose, etc. You may or may not care. But no matter what, it should be wild, entertaining, and make us stop breathing for short periods of time.

Menagerie Magazine