Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

By: JD DeHart Behind dark glasses, with a derivative haircut, slicked back like a government agent on a Saturday morning cartoon, he looks ready to made a deal, smoothing out the jagged edges of bartering. Maybe a novice negotiator, maybe…

Poetry

By: JD DeHart Of course, there is probably no way to really prepare. A string can be tied around the finger only so many times. I could run one hundred images, scenarios through my mind. The script gets old, tattered,…

Poetry

By: Arushi Singh Tell me the price Of college girl stereotypes And the blazing Hippy hopeful blonde eyes Spiirits of intoxicating Spirits with cigarettes Tipped on cracked glass Rum and gin With a dash of Hope and flying Dolphins In mother’s…

Fiction

By: Russ Bickerstaff We were all lost. I don’t know exactly when it was that I first made the realization, but we were definitely lost. There really was no getting around it. We were lost and things were starting to…

Fiction

By: Genelle Chaconas  The broad stripe across your thighs is met with another. Then another. It is not the house you live in. Nor any shape you can imagine. Wide as the underside of a belt. Where he massaged his wrist…

Fiction

By: Nitta Pann “This could be that moment.” Calvin sighed. He took a drag of his cigarette. Jonathan crinkled his nose and glanced over at his partner. Calvin was slouched in his seat, an arm positioned out the window, staring at…

Books Reviews

By: John Grey  within the quote you’re irrespective of the meaning that wields it giving the finger to the history of English Literature as taught to you by Professor who-the-hell knows it says an object is a mere inkling of what…

Books ReviewsPoetry

By: John Grey The bed beguiles even when not in action. Its very anticipation of bodies is an impression in itself. The blanket is turned down. The coil-springs of the mattress near-burst with latent energy. Even its very stillness is an…

Poetry

By: John Grey Three high school sweethearts, one from my first workplace, two from my second, the redhead I met on my travels, the blonde I married and divorced, a couple of in-betweeners and then you – I have been…

Fiction

By: JP Miller The first time I noticed the Tickle was almost three years after I had left the Army. Without notice, as I stepped across that magical line into Capitalism’s greatest accomplishment—into Wal-Mart World— my ears start ringing. Tinnitus?…