New York Tyrant

Keeps You Sharp
by Sam Pink

Jordan Castro

Keeps You Sharp <br>by Sam Pink</br>

I was walking home through downtown St. Pete, sweating badly.   

This older guy crossed paths with me near a concrete ledge overlooking an area of creek.  

'Man, goddamn it,' he said, stopping by me as though we'd already been talking.  

I stopped too.  

'This motherfucker….' he said, gesturing out somewhere.  

He had faded tattoos and big, raw pock marks all over his arms.  


Skevanston, Illinois by Drew Gamble

Jordan Castro

Comments 2

Skevanston, Illinois by Drew Gamble

In 1977, my parents bought a house on a busy street. The home fell inside of a half-square mile oddity of land and bureaucratic mishap that the locals called Skevanston. This real estate snafu allowed people like my parents to buy a better valued home in the city of Evanston’s school district while paying the town of Skokie’s lower property taxes.  I came into the home in 1984, as the fourth child and only boy. Across the street from us was a large field loomed over by a tall tree that grew blackberries the size of cicadas. They rotted in...


So You Think You Can Dance (On My Grave)
by Brad Phillips

Jordan Castro

So You Think You Can Dance (On My Grave) <br>by Brad Phillips</br>
Can you imagine I've never shaken one hand, never faked one smile, never kissed any curator's asymmetrically pant-clad ass, to achieve this comfortable if not wildly successful career I have?
     That in four years I've gone to six art openings, three mine, one my wife's, two my best friends. Did you know that was possible? To just stay home and work?

excerpts from Person/a
by Elizabeth Ellen

Jordan Castro

excerpts from <i>Person/a</i> <br>by Elizabeth Ellen</br>
Lately I have been wondering how many accidental car crashes are misdiagnosed suicides. It seems that if your intent is to kill yourself without afterward being thought an asshole by your friends and family, running your car into a tree or telephone pole would be the way to do it. Nobody gets hurt and everyone chalks it up as a “freak occurrence.” Of course now that I’ve posed the question in this form, I have eliminated it as a possibility for myself.

I AM YOUNG IN MY LOVE FOR THE MOON
by Leopoldine Core

Jordan Castro

I AM YOUNG IN MY LOVE FOR THE MOON <br>by Leopoldine Core</br>

I wanted to write a love poem

the most impossible thing

and I did 
and it wasn’t hard 

and afterward I took a walk
and nothing seemed hard.


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