HAD

@havehashad.com

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We had an idea that started as a joke. We had an affinity for that minimalist look and feel of early online journals. We had a couple drinks. https://www.havehashad.com

cover letter if my deep-seated anxiety is right and you end up disliking this poem so much that you decide you actually really really hate me as a person and want to dedicate your life to seeing me fail, just know that I'm so so sorry. either way, thanks for your time!
July 19, 2026 Errands Daniella Sinder To lie in the mud first in childhood and later, eternally To watch a former love grow old from behind a dog's Instagram account To buy the bottle for its label and laugh at the first sip To divorce your pain from your personality and find that nothing remains To speak kindly to yourself (but only out of spite) To manage expectations and still say, I love you To envision a future held by arms merely reaching for the next morning To fear the intuition you once fought to understand To learn new terminology for your experiences and wish the world had fewer words To fall asleep entwined and yearn for infinite language
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cover letter I think this piece is a little eerie and nostalgic and pretty--all the things I like for my writing to be. Hope you enjoy!
what is it who knows?? cover letter This is one of the weirder/nerdier things I've ever written so I saved it for a HAD call. :)
Submissions are open RIGHT NOW. Will be open for 70 submissions. Open to technically anything, but would really love to see the teeniest tiniest pieces of prose you've got. In other words... - open to all genre, but would really love to see prose - open to any word length, but the shorter the better - you can send two pieces, but really encourage you only send one no theme Will probably do this same call sometime in the next 12–168 hours, depending on how fast I get through these and how life goes, so if you don't make this in time, keep an eye on our socials? Thanks! -Aaron
July 15, 2026 Three Days Later Jonna Kihlman You asked me to come and see you before you left. I told you I had plans. The truth was I didn't trust myself not to fall back. Three days later I bought a train ticket to your city. I watched fields turn into buildings outside the train window. Walked the white cobbles of your street. Sat beneath a tree in the park across from your house and looked at the front door. Nothing happened. No curtains moved. No footsteps crossed the hall. No shadow passed the window. You were already gone. Still, I sat there for an hour, as if regret could arrive late and find me waiting.
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July 11, 2026 horse/mother by Lili Lin what i didn’t know before was that a horse is born ready to run. this concept: the last przewalski my mother told me the scar on her arm was from a motorcycle. a teenage accident; i try to imagine my mother, young wild and free
July 10, 2026 Warning Label for Prednisone Robin Neidhard after Shira Erlichman The side effect of prednisone (is a moon face. The side effect of a moon face is no one will recognize you anymore. The side effect of no one recognizing you is that you’ll question your own existence. The side effect of questioning your own existence is that at some point you’ll no longer care. The side effect of not caring is saying fuck it. The side effect of saying fuck it is bringing home two cats. The side effect of bringing home two cats is needing more cats. The side effect of all these cats is partial healing. The side effect of partial healing is vivid dreams of running down the street again after being paralyzed. The side effect of running down the street in dreams is you’ll believe you can do anything. The side effect of self-belief is open skies and a full heart. The side effect of open skies and a full heart is a gentle return to yourself. The side effect of a gentle return to yourself is ta
July 7, 2026 FEATURES THAT I PARTICULARLY LIKE Renee Kalagayan After Sei Shōnagon When my three-year-old cousin presses buttons on his toys with his middle finger. Middle fingers. Giving someone the bird. Birds. Crows and ravens, especially. Also loons, kookaburras, cockatoos, cassowaries, roseate spoonbills, and shoebill storks with their prominent noses. I love prominent noses. Women whose noses make them look like birds or witches or that spread wide when they laugh. Women who laugh. Women who are bewitching. Women who be witching. Women who call their group of friends a coven. My coven. Emma, Isabella, Jessica, Karina, and my little cousin Ina. Ina’s nose. When Ina’s nose crinkles in the middle when she smiles, like a drawbridge being raised. Bridges. Bridges over cars. Freckles bespeckled over the bridge of a nose. Bridges in songs. Bridges over water. Bridges over troubled water. Troubled water. Breakwater. Drinking water on a break from work. Poems that feel like fresh water af
July 5, 2026 Small Pete by Ken Pisani All Small Pete ever wanted to do was fish, which drove his industrious neighbors crazy. (With envy?) They worked to have all that they wanted, including jet packs to take them to castles in the sky . . . while all Small Pete had was time to fish. (He lived in a hole in the ground.) Despite a lifetime sitting by the river, rod in hand, line in water, Small Pete had never caught a fish. But he didn’t care because—technically—“fishing” did not require the actual catching of a fish. The townspeople disagreed, insisting that fishing required the end result of a fish. Finally, they’d had enough of Small Pete’s lazy affrontery. They arrested him and charged him with temporalcide (“killing time”). And sentenced Small Pete to death. But it was customary to grant the condemned man’s last request. And all Small Pete wanted was to fish. You can find Small Pete by the side of the river, rod in hand, line in water, and not a fish in sight.
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Poem in Which I Practice Optimism “For sale: baby shoes. Never worn.” Maybe the baby was born so big the shoes never fit or the baby lived someplace warm and went around barefoot or the baby was held all the time so his feet never even touched the ground.
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June 30, 2026 Not in this one, but: by Hope Neyer In another world, you and I get really into backpacking. You grow out your beard. I braid my hair with strips of cloth. In the silent forest of this different circumstance, we speak softly to each other. In some other time, you and I watch rockets launch from Cape Canaveral. You hold me in wonder on the wet ground. I lean into your chest in the countdown. We watch the breaking sky and speak softly to each other. In some other bodies, you and I are barn owls. You make short flights at dusk, return to me. I kill voles and rabbits and leave the bones in open fields. Our eyes are huge. They reflect a waxing moon and we speak softly to each other.
June 26, 2026 Preventable Things by Avery Steigerwald car crash without a seatbelt / mistakes / summer colds / winter colds / viral infection / post-viral infection / the things you can’t prevent without your prophetic dreams / death / disease / life / pregnancy / the extinction of penguins / love / losing someone you love / finding someone you love / fibroids / autoimmune disease / people-pleasing / redundancy / regret / tears
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June 17, 2026 I Drive By a Bunch of Teenagers With My Window Down While Listening to an Audiobook by Sir David Attenborough and Right as I Pass Them He Loudly Says “Then The Couple Mates” by Mitchell Nobis They laugh.
June 16, 2026 Demographics Frances Klein Sexual Orientation (select one) Heterosexual Homosexual Okay, so it’s 1999 and The Mummy is in theaters and everyone is falling in love with men and women and eyeliner as thick as the lid of a sarcophagus and all the teens are doodling on their notebooks in loopy cursive, Mr. Rachel Weisz’s Belted Tanktop, and Mrs. Brendan Fraser’s Center-Part Bangs, and Arnold Vosloo’s Shaved Head and the small towns of America aren’t so small when you sit in the dark with desert stretching past the horizon, and we all see the movie every weekend, tickets are cheap if you smuggle in your own snacks, cargo pants pockets stuffed with Skittles, and the ticket taker doesn’t notice because he’s making eyes at the cardboard cutout of Brendan, we all are, we all want to be all four lips and two tongues inside the big kiss at the end, want to be every locust buzzing out of Imhotep’s unhinged jaws, we have no words for what we feel, know only that something inside us h
screenshot of Submittable showing 91 submissions (down from starting at 926!)
cover letter Y'all are so funny pls never go bald ily tip jar
screenshot of Submittable showing 266 submissions (down from original number of 926)
a screenshot from tumblr, with a painting of a landscape and the silhouette of a person (with big, possibly headpiece, possible made of antlers) pointing, and in the background, and big blobby outline of a kind of animal or something giving a thumbs up. og poster: "yo bro is it safe down there in the woods? yeah man it's cool" by Tomislav Jagnjic reply post: I thought this was just a joke but nope, that's literally what the artist named this piece
cover letter you ever go to therapy and go omg i cannot even begin to talk about my issues until i develop a sexual fixation on taxidermy or something because right now they are SOOOOOOOO cliche
screenshot of Submittable email, a reply to a rejection: You are so funny. You don’t actually read through 900 pieces it’s just not humanly possible :)
cover letter Devastating that we have to use submittable instead of carrier pigeons and smoke signals. Where's the whimsy?
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cover letter Who hasn’t looked at a bird of prey and thought “yeah, that bird understands romance?”
screenshot of Submittable showing 584 submissions (down from starting at 926)
screenshot of email inbox showing 926 submissions
(full piece at link) What I Mean When I Say Doe-Eyed EK Krone I mean childlike, I mean wonder, I mean beauty in the way you look at me, I mean the way she looked at me, I mean my father, I mean our father, I mean who art in Heaven, I mean helpless, I mean the way that she looked at me helpless, I mean starry-eyed, I mean the gems in her eyes, I mean the light marble of them, I mean paralyzed, I mean headlights blinding through the distance, I mean the way she looked at headlights blinding through the distance, I mean how she was paralyzed as she saw headlights blinding through the distance, I mean distance, I mean the distance between us & Heaven, I mean the distance between us & our father who art in Heaven, I mean Heaven, I mean the doe looked at me, I mean the doe who looked at me is in Heaven, I mean the sky, I mean the deer stand, I mean the deer stand is shadowing Heaven from the sky, I mean my father who fell from a deer stand, I mean the wind sang to him, I mean...
March 6, 2024 Dolphin Linguistics Nam Hoang Tran “A, B, C, D, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z”
May 24, 2026 my first relationship as ao3 tags because all of this happened to some other girl Gia Kim an exercise in testing the limits of stupidity by a girl who doesnt drive bad blowjobs and grappling with the concept of your best friend forgetting you summer after high school you know how it is! now I know he bottles up his anger and i am nothing but a common whore and I need to chew on something but there is only the flesh of my arm because thats all what he left me and Really this is only about sex and that's all i can give and i too know what its like to deny yourself the things you desire because when we fuck I see him in you all i want is a love that lasts and I said 'yeah but what if I made it fucked up'
spontaneous Tuesday night/Wednesday morning call Ends on Wed, May 20, 2026 5:00 AM (in 6 hours) Submissions will be open tonight/this morning, Wednesday, May 20, from 4am-5am ET (so, 1am-2am PT, and a more convenient hour for those of you outside the US). No submission cap, so no race against each other, but only open for an hour, and that hour is... kinda inconvenient. You have to a) see this announcement in the first place!, and b) either stay up late, wake up early, or be one of our international peeps. 500 word max only submit one piece; if micros or poems, two are ok open to all genre no theme If you're reading this, you probably have a pretty good idea of what I/HAD like, but some stuff that jumps to my mind: long single sentence pieces, single paragraph blocks of texts (prose poems, I guess you could just say), longass lists, crazy long titles (used to be more common on HAD, we've gotten away from them a bit, would be fun to see some more again), funny stuff that makes me laugh, stuff that makes me laugh and then punches me in my emotions, sexy stuff that makes me blush, stuff that makes me go "huh??", stuff I'm not sure I "get" but that gets inside my brain... Going to try to respond to everyone throughout Tuesday, but we'll see how many come in during this hour! Thanks. 💀💀💀 Aaron
May 17, 2026 Sonnet to my Son Quinn Franzen Two trash trucks collide and the hairiest man I have ever seen is arguing with the second hairiest man I have ever seen. They are both beautiful as the sun curls to sleep in their curling forearms. The intersection smells like bad gin. You point at a car and say tar. What I thought I needed to survive I gin up from nothing. You point at a cat that isn’t there. What I thought I needed to survive I didn’t. Even the bricks reflect a little light.
May 15, 2026 Triple Couplets for a Southern Spring with changing environmental factors by Sean Cho A. (Thursday) There are no seasons that I look forward to any more. (New AC) I cherish my joys as small as they are. I can never live outside of the body.
May 13, 2026 i like when people talk about bread and use the word crumb Ben Starr When they say, “that ciabatta you baked has a nice open crumb.” I like when people reduce an assemblage of atoms down to its most basic form. Like when a skyscraper is just spire. Or an airplane is just tray table in its upright and locked position. At home I call my dog tongue and my refrigerator freon cooling tube. This idiosyncratic enthusiasm started in middle school where I was first linguistically distilled to the tiniest synecdoche. In high school that process became physical. A girl once refined me into a thumb and stuck me in a platinum locket looped around her neck. This was what we called getting to third base. Third base is baseball in its purified form. The nexus of accomplishment and anticipation. A whole stadium stomping their toes. A batter stroking his well-hewn ego. The pitcher probing for the perfect raised seam.
May 12, 2026 You will soon be surrounded by good friends and laughter Elena Zhang There will be no exit. But why, you will sob. I love you. Your good friends, laughing.
May 11, 2026 For years I have taken to burying birds in my garden plots and herb boxes Vic Nogay so when you eat from the land I have tended and sown you will taste the steadfast wan of these thinning days, the equinox, the bluster of early winds, the spring floods, the June drought, the sweat from a laboring, solstice-taut skin sloughing, the fallen tomato, guardian marigolds, a fledgling’s bones—a mere splinter—, your soft palate scarring and softening again.
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Haven't done a spontaneous call in a minute... so let's do one! No word count limit, no theme (though shorter, and "bolder" tends to most get my attention during these calls). Open to any/all genre! Would love to see a comic! I love stuff that you aren't even sure what genre it is. If you're reading this, you probably have a pretty good idea of what I/HAD like, but some stuff that jumps to my mind: long single sentence pieces, single paragraph blocks of texts (prose poems, I guess you could just say), longass lists, crazy long titles (used to be more common on HAD, we've gotten away from them a bit, would be fun to see some more again), funny stuff that makes me laugh, stuff that makes me laugh and then punches me in my emotions, sexy stuff that makes me blush, stuff that makes me go "huh??", stuff I'm not sure I "get" but that gets inside my brain... Only open for 50 submissions. (Depending how fast I get through them, maybe I'll do another call later today or tomorrow or Monday or something...)
April 21, 2026 DOSIDOING THE DAYS AWAY by Liza St. James We dosidoed in produce, then again in dry goods. We dosidoed through no fault, no decision, of our own. Drawn together doggedly, we performed the undying ritual we had no language for but tried to describe anyway, through the ages and for decades thereafter, knowing though not quite understanding, that doing so would be our dosidoing’s undoing.
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April 15, 2026 "Walking Meditation To The Disintegration Loops by William Basinski" by Billie J Daniel Shut your eyes, Walk forward in a straight line. Resist your body’s need to know where it is. If you walk for long enough with your eyes closed it begins to feel like you’re walking on the spot. A kind of eternal perfection happens and you can’t tell the beginning or the end (William Basinski).
April 11, 2026 Occasional Poem Jeffrey H. MacLachlan Share for special occasions. A special occasion implies a few times per year. As people age, life occupies more years and occasions. Shared occasions become part of a special few. Relish time for those occasions. Special love parts with a few years.
April 6, 2026 —remember that time with the family when we all got together and it was wonderful until Guan Un the boys started arguing about whose turn on the ATV and it’s so hard now to gather now with all the babies in the AV room but Uncle Davey is upset no one wants to see this footage—back from when they were younger than you are now—then when He held the camcorder in smoother hands—and he presses play and pixels tide across the screen—small children wave and shade their eyes against the light—and then so soon it’s over, everyone gets up but Aunty Cindy lies on the couch, the light in her eyes, repeating “Play it again! Don’t you—”
April 4, 2026 The gap Simon Firth There’s a very narrow gap between the clock and the bed. But it’s where I like to stand (extremely straight with my hands by my side) facing the window. I’m listening carefully to the tick of the clock. (In truth, and at this stage there’s no point in lying, I’m not sure if the tick is coming from the clock, or from inside my mouth, or from another clock inside my stomach). The pigeons on the windowsill are listening too. They’re waiting for the clock to stop, or for the hands to get confused about whether to move forwards or backwards. When this happens, the incorrect sound, which might also be a kind of silence, will coincide with my legs collapsing. (I haven’t moved from this spot for several days, and my legs have gotten very skinny). I’ll fall to the floor, crack my head open, and the pigeons will join me in the gap between the clock and the bed, where they’ll pluck away at whatever is left of me. And when they’re done, the hands of the clock will
April 3, 2026 Two Futures Benjamin Niespodziany The Future Nobody wants the future to be mechanical metal-filled junkyard parts when the forest is still scribbling new histories and the rain tastes like God. * The Future God swallowed all the storks. What more do you expect us to do?
April 1, 2026 Google’s new machine can reach between universes to perform quantum computations by David Ward Well yes, we say, after a few minutes to think about it. Not to gag you with sweetness, but hasn’t any lover already accomplished this? When my love runs dry don’t I reach my wooden dipper into a parallel well where we have no children, or have several, or where we are children ourselves and have known each other since Mrs. Allen’s second grade class, and take for myself a cup of that David’s cold water? And don’t we here, now, in our only world, so often seek down to groundwater just so our other selves can drink?
March 31, 2026 Asteroid 2024 YR4 by Matthew Murrey December twenty-second, twenty-thirty-two, the very day I turn seventy, you catch me staring up into the night sky watching for that dark chunk of space coming to flatten a forest, Bockscar a city, or just bullet by through the silent, airless dark. For my lucky seven decades I have lucked out—not booked that flight, not worked in that school, not lived by those parched woods— so after a card, a blown-out wish, and one unwrapped gift, I’m out scanning the sky and wondering if my streak will hold, though at seventy, I know no matter what happens, it’s all over but the shouting.
Sunday Scaries I listen to the same podcast over again. half laughing at the parts I remember being funny. not because I loved it. not even for enjoyment but because it feels good to know the future. it feels good to know exactly who I am going to be.
March 29, 2026 Slipping Shea Socrates One January day, while taking out the trash, Harp started slipping on ice and never stopped. One leg after the other, arms flapping, torso pitched at forty-five degrees. Their feet slapped the ground like Scooby-Doo and Shaggy running away. After a few minutes, Harp realized they might be stuck. With Felix’s help, they got back inside, where the slipping continued. “Maybe you’d better stay the night in the kitchen,” Felix said. And so it went, through winter and spring. Summer arrives, and the friction of Harp’s feet on hot ground smokes their shoes, burning through the soles until only calloused, bloody feet remain. A friend, Sarah, slips Nike sandals onto Harp’s feet, timed perfectly with each step. They sleep at the bed’s edge; when Harp and Felix share a bed, nobody sleeps. Harp must eat endlessly to fuel the motion. The endless movement calms some—cardinals, a certain cat, maybe even Harp—though the cat may just be after the birds. Harp’s ther
March 28, 2026 IF YOU WANNA FIGHT, FIGHT by nat raum I DID NOT COME ALL THE WAY TO THIS MOTHERFUCKING CHILI’S CIRCA 2003 TO GO HOME WITHOUT AT LEAST A RARE STEAK AND A GIANT MOTHERFUCKING MARGARITA. NO, I AM HERE TO COLLAPSE YOUR VISION OF YOURSELF AS SOME ALTRUISTIC HERO, ALL GUNS BLAZING AND GLORY DECAYED. LISTEN, I NEVER SAID I WAS PERFECT—I’D ARGUE THE OPPOSITE. BUT I WEAR IT LIKE AN UNDRESSED WOUND, TOO PROUD TO GAUZE OVER. IF THIS IS INDEED MY MISSTEP, COME AT ME, BRO. MY KNUCKLES ARE THIRSTY.
In That Other Town Time runs backwards. The Dead come home to full beds.
March 26, 2026 30,000 Feet by Lexi Kent-Monning My playlist for when I’m on an airplane is called “time travel” On it is Brian Eno’s “Here Come the Warm Jets,” then his entire Ambient 1: Music for Airports album, plus one song at the end by Loudon Wainwright, “Motel Blues.” I like hearing Loudon wail about being lonely on the road and needing to be saved after all that floatiness. Time travel is a lonesome endeavor. On airplanes I’ve missed entire days crossing the international dateline. Or, worse, lived the same day twice.
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