Literary Yard

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Poetry

By: Andrew Hubbard When I was little I laid my peas In a row on my plate And my mother cried. I don’t know why, I wasn’t making a mess.   I laid the green beans Two side-by-side And then two…

Poetry

  By: Andrew Hubbard Well, it’s convenient, no commuting And cheap, our living space Is storage as far as the taxman knows.   We sell everything. You want gloves? We got ‘em. Lipstick, hairspray, tampons? Yup. University sweatshirts? Shovels? Pencils? Flower…

Poetry

By: Andrew Hubbard The drinks came And I asked the predictable question. “I kind of like it,” she said “It keeps me fit And the money’s not bad.” She blew smoke thoughtfully And fidgeted with an ashtray. “My twin sister has…

Poetry

By: Darren C. Demaree 1.EMILY AS WAVES, WAVES I got these bruises just holding on to Emily as she opened herself up to the full moon   2. EMILY AS THE LAST PRAYER I got fizzy water out of a…

Books ReviewsPoetry

By: E. Martin Pedersen It’s a week or ten or a month or ten years My God. Come quick! It’s a miracle, he returns. Hi everybody, what time is it? Take me home. New decade, new pres, let’s see, Rowan an’…

Poetry

By: E. Martin Pedersen My daydreams and nightmares have the same plot with different protagonists or the same people from my past life passed over on the other shore people (see above for their real names) showing up on my doorstep…

Poetry

By: Patrick Legay the sails flowed into the mouth bright and clean broad with the shimmer of the sun stealing from the soft blue surface call beauteous hard to believe the filth and dismay barreled below what is wonder to the…

Poetry

By: Patrick Legay yes it can’t be denied that’s true and if you want more that storyboard like that I got a bunch — funny little family vignettes — like the one about me at 7 years old in 1954 look…

Poetry

By: Sankara Olama-Yai  I found god in your eyes Where had he gone Do you remember that night when I hit my head on the roof of a vacant train Your laugh was a heavenly lullaby I let my head lie…

Poetry

By: Sankara Olama-Yai  Your name is not a crime, Yet why is it whispered When my soul can still hear the thunder My heart screams your name to the luminescent pearl in the sky As if it can hear my regrets…