Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Fiction

By: Tom Sheehan They kicked in then, at sight of the wild-eyed gunman on the Greyhound bus moving into Vermont and on to Canada, my other lives, the separate and strange ones, spinning back through me, each one of them,…

Poetry

By: Tom Sheehan When asked to read to celebrate my new book of memoirs, I let the audience enter the cubicle from where the work came. I told them: I’ll celebrate with you by telling you what I know, how…

EssayNon-Fiction

By: Larry Lefkowitz in obtaining a publisher for my novel, I decided to take matters in hand: I would become my own literary agent. I debated about the name – as literary agent for my novel. I decided on Flavian Zorbach…

Fiction

By: Michael C. Keith If you battle monsters, you don’t always become a monster. But you aren’t entirely human anymore, either. –– Jonathan Maberry We were in our getaway rental six miles up from State Road 359 when we heard…

Books Reviews

By: Indunil Madhusankha With her head lent against the front post of the shack, she plunges into freakishly terrible concentration Dumbfounded and as still as the motionless stump Her mouth is open in blighting apprehension The fear that tortures her…

Poetry

By: Indunil Madhusankha  We have an āchchi in the neighbourhood She has a son fitting to be called a highly dedicated son She sweats out from morning till night cooking, washing, sweeping and cleaning She performs all the daily chores Her…

Fiction

By: Tom Sheehan Leaping from his chair, arms raised in a sign of total surrender to the sound that he thought will most likely come with the same horrific resonance when the whole damned universe breaks in half, Carlos Penez…

Fiction

By: William T. Hathaway My dad was cheating on mom. I saw him and his girl friend at a disco, dancing and kissing. She was plump and plain, not much older than me, the kind who’d probably have to take…

Fiction

By: Gaither Stewart Someone was playing the piano in the far room. High laughter and shouts and shrieks sounded from the corridor. Near him there was a generalized swishing of expensive silks to the sound of cocktail chatter. Over the…

Poetry

By: Anca Mihaela Bruma Each of your Emotion, tears the Time’s tactile sense!… Inside this bi-polar Existence… With unspoken words, floating within spaces… Each of your Emotion, Has a different season!… But I found a Place, to raise the Punctuation… where…