Editor’s Note

While writing this note, I was, perhaps naively, reviewing all of our selected poetry, prose, and art submissions in the hopes of discovering a simple, overarching theme. This was, of course, fruitless. Even during our editors’ meetings, we make a point to emphasize variety—in content, style, and even tone. What I was truly feeling, and what we hope we can share with all of our readers, was a sharpness. Whether in wit, storytelling, or composition, every one of these pieces has the ability to pierce you straight through the heart. They were submitted in the harshness of winter and will be published during the delicate thaw of spring. Thus, we are proud to present you with this year’s issue. It is darkly optimistic, as provoking as it is vulnerable, and, above all, unabashedly sincere.

When I joined West 10th as a copy editor, freshly eighteen and having just moved to New York, my primary concern was hiding my inexperience. This anxiety reared its ugly head again the following year, when I became a poetry editor. I felt like a stray animal plucked off the streets, voice trembling as I voiced an opinion about a controversial submission, ears pricked for the first whisper of danger (disapproval). Yet I never got any hint of it. The more I engaged with editors, supervisors, and other writers at the yearly launch party, the more I understood the community that West 10th cultivates. Here was the opportunity to collaborate; to consume; to even find pleasure in the respectful disagreement that was once so feared.

This issue could only come to fruition with enduring hard work of the West 10th team. To my fellow Co-Editor-in-Chief Joyce Cayre and Managing Editor Lili Raynaud, it’s a bit surreal to step back and look at what we’ve accomplished. I’ll carry the snapshots of us exchanging late groupchat texts, open mic performing, and getting terrified at the copious accomplishments of our freshman members into graduation. It would be impossible to express how grateful and honored I am to be heading this year’s issue with both of you.

Of course, thank you to our indomitable poetry, prose, art, and copy editors. Your efforts were crucial to the selection and revision process of our hundreds of submissions. It takes courage to speak up during an editorial meeting; diligence to comb through pages and pages of words to edit. Thank you to our social media/web editors and event coordinators, who helped grow the journal’s roots. I hope you were challenged and fulfilled. To our underclassmen: West 10th is in good hands.

A literary journal is a skeleton without its contributors. Joyce, Lili, and I were continuously awed by the sheer creativity and prowess of the pieces we received. So many unique depictions of home (or the lack thereof), love (or the lack thereof), childhood, bodies, wilderness. Each work offers a different glimpse into someone’s history.

I wish I could personally show every submitter how heated the discussions in our meetings became. How difficult it was to narrow them down. Submitting one’s art requires a kind of hope only possessed by the brave. I beseech you to keep trying, regardless of the outcome.

An enormous thank you to the Creative Writing Program and its faculty. Thank you to Joanna Yas, our Staff Advisor, for indulging our many questions and keeping this journal alive. Thank you to our Executive Editors Matthew Rohrer and Darin Strauss for your endless support; your investment in West 10th to select our Editors’ Award recipients. Lili and I have been lucky to study under Matthew Rohrer, and the knowledge we’ve come away with has made us better writers and people (and zine-makers). Thank you to Deborah Landau, Director of the Creative Writing Program, for giving us a platform, and to Jerome Murphy, Undergraduate Program Managaer, who is likely responsible for anyone outside of West 10th knowing about us at all.

This 2025–2026 issue features a guest contribution from Terrance Hayes, whose poetry is vivid and always devastatingly timely. It also spotlights an interview with Katie Kitamura, novelist and NYU Creative Writing professor. Her work encompasses the sharpness that is echoed throughout the rest of the issue. We are grateful for your time and engagement.

Finally, to you. The reader. Whether you are leafing through a physical copy or scrolling through our website, you are choosing to interact with a collection of art that has passed through numerous hands. Gone through countless revisions. Contains so many voices. West 10th is a collective effort, and your role is unbelievably important. Thank you for supporting us.

Ranina Simon

Co-Editor-in-Chief