Black Clock provides a much needed fix of experimental fiction and adventurous writing. If you’re getting the itch for some literary stimulation, cut down on the lattes and invest in a subscription.

Each issue arrives in the reader’s hands as an artifact throbbing with potential and strangeness, new names and old names in wild conjunctions and brave forays, a journal to drive the collectors of the future into acquisitive frenzies.

One of the contemporary literary magazines with real vision — and they are in short supply.

Black Clock measures the temper of the turning world — a journal of ideas, provocations and cultural leaps, with some of the best writing anywhere.

Singular, idiosyncratic, and little mysterious, Black Clock has become one of America’s leading literary journals since its inception three years ago.

There’s never before been a literary journal with exactly the power and elegance, even the force of enigma, of Black Clock.

My idea was that Black Clock really would be a writer’s magazine because the magazine offered them the freedom to do anything, to even fuck up if they wanted or needed to.