Poet Land Press is the non-profit imprint of the Poet Land Foundation. We publish original works of fiction and non-fiction, with a particular focus on voices from historically underrepresented communities. We strive to give space to LGBTQIA+, BIPOC, and female voices.
Our Process
All submissions are reviewed by the members of the editorial board.
If selected, we will reach out and set up a 1:1 conversation to discuss your artist’s approach and voice, and build a plan to get your work published.
Once under contract, we work with you through every stage of the process, giving you the authority to approve editorial recommendations and the final product.
Once published, we continue to work hand in hand, providing you with steady sales reports and identifying opportunities to promote your work.
Our Standard Services
We provide a full suite of services to support our artists, including:
- Final Editorial Review
- Manuscript Layout
- Delivery of EPUB and KDP file formats
- Publication on the Poet Land KDP Platform
- Manuscript Marketing and Promotional Summary
- Marketing Strategy
- Keyword Analysis
- Early Publication Access to Poet Land Advanced Readers Group
- Reporting and Order Management
- Quarterly Royalty Payment
- Soft and Hard Back Edition Printing and Shipping
Additional Services
- Cover Design
- Full Text Redline Editing
- Full Marketing Plan
Why Publish With Us?
As a non-profit press, we focus on identifying and publishing new and unique voices that have been excluded from traditional publishing. Our goal is to publish without commercial concern.
As a Poet Land Press artist:
- You retain full rights to your work: We publish ‘by permission’.
- We keep our costs low and don’t profit from your work.
- Lower costs mean higher ‘royalties’ per volume sold.
- Transparency: We provide you with a complete breakdown of all costs in advance: no surprises.
Current Catalogue
He said he didn’t love her. That was the first lie in a book made almost entirely of them: the ones he told her, and the ones he kept telling himself long after she was gone.
It’s Me, Again. Again. is 87 poems that trace a single relationship in real time: the first night, the coffee-stained mornings after, the fight that wasn’t really about the fight, and the years spent trying to replace her with women who only ever reminded him she was gone. He hoards her bra like a warning sign to visitors. He mails her poems she never answers. Every time, he tells himself this letter is the last one.
It isn’t.
David Audley writes heartbreak the way it happens: unglamorous, self-serving, and funny in the moments it shouldn’t be. This is not a collection about healing. It’s about the specific, humiliating comfort of refusing to.
Another Untrue Sorry is a raw, confessional haiku collection that traces one man’s romantic unraveling from the hollow promise of dating apps to the wreckage of betrayal, from the confusion of desire and identity to a final descent into grief and despair.
In spare, unflinching three-line bursts, the poems move through the giddy optimism of a new match, the intoxication of falling too fast, the humiliation of being discarded, and the quiet devastation of loving someone who was never fully his. Along the way, the collection turns its gaze inward — onto masculinity, sexuality, self-sabotage, and the particular loneliness of being a man who processes pain by turning it into art.
Structured in four chapters, Love’s Promises and Tinder’s Lies, And a Vacation Ruins Everything, Love’s Rejections and Recriminations, and Death Not Love Becomes the Poet, this is confessional poetry in the tradition of Sexton and Lowell, compressed into the smallest possible container: seventeen syllables of honesty at a time.
A collection for anyone who has ever loved too hard, too fast, and lost.
That Last First Kiss is a poetry collection about the particular kind of love that arrives like a good pour of rye — warm, sharp, and gone too fast. Structured in four acts, it charts the full arc of a relationship: the electric first meeting across a bar, the slow slide into obsession and betrayal, the seductive pull of strangers when a marriage or partnership starts to fray, and finally, the long, unsparing descent into heartbreak, regret, and self-destruction.
This is confessional poetry in the rawest sense — unguarded, often profane, sometimes cruel, and always honest. The poems move between tenderness and wreckage: a first kiss under a stranger’s gaze, a stolen night in a “dingy hotel room,” a lover’s cigarette ash left behind in a bedside table, a New Year’s Eve spent alone at the bar while “respectable people” make resolutions the speaker no longer believes in. Alcohol runs through every page — not as a device, but as a character in its own right: a companion, a confessor, “the only friend who hasn’t left me yet.”
