New York Tyrant

Why This Book Is Important and Things I Like and Don’t Like About It, Plus Biographical Information About Me A Book Review of OK by KOOL AD
by Helen Schreiner

Giancarlo DiTrapano

Comments 2

Why This Book Is Important and Things I Like and Don’t Like About It, Plus Biographical Information About Me  A Book Review of OK by KOOL AD <br>by Helen Schreiner

Why This Book Is Important and Things I Like and Don’t Like About It, Plus Biographical Information About Me

A Book Review of OK by KOOL AD

by Helen Marialuzia Reiner Good (aka Helen Schreiner) 

excerpt from The Sarah Book
by Scott McClanahan

Giancarlo DiTrapano

Comments 1

excerpt from The Sarah Book <br>by Scott McClanahan

I told her I’d do better and I told her I’d stop drinking and I told her I’d take better care of myself and I’d cut out all the shit like eating chicken wings every night by myself and drinking and we could eat like a family again.  I told her I’d go to therapy and I said please Sarah please Sarah please, but then Sarah said no.   

Sarah said, “I’ve been trying to get you to go to therapy for years.  I’ve been begging you to stop for years. And all the molestation stuff that happened when you were a kid.”

Interview with Kimmy Walters
by Sam Pink

Giancarlo DiTrapano

Interview with Kimmy Walters <br>by Sam Pink
Friends, pleasant discoveries are everywhere. What was thought to be an empty pocket, contains loose change. A normal day at the park reveals a new squirrel friend. And so it was with Kimberly Walters. Fumbling about on the expanse of the internet (like a bumbling nincompoop), I discovered her writing. And so far, having read her twitter for the last couple months, and her new book, Killer, I really like all of it. To put it bluntly, as H.L. Mencken once said of a sandwich he was eating, “this shit is fucking awesome and if you don’t agree, fuck you.”

literally show me a healthy person (excerpt)
by Darcie Wilder

Giancarlo DiTrapano

Comments 7

literally show me a healthy person (excerpt) <br>by Darcie Wilder
grammar question: do you wake up "with terror" or "in terror"?

excerpt from WELFARE
by Steve Anwyll

Giancarlo DiTrapano

Comments 1

excerpt from WELFARE <br>by Steve Anwyll<br>

I probably remind my old man of the woman he lost. So maybe that's why I always feel like I don't belong. And why he gives me so much space. I don’t know if it’s that that made me distant. Independent. But what I am sure of is that it makes leaving pretty easy. 

In fact. I've been thinking about it for years. But where do I go? And how do I pay for food? So I've had to wait. Until after my 16th birthday. When the fighting with my dad's new wife gets to be too much. I just pack my bags. 

And when I come through the kitchen. Shes standing there. She asks me where I think I'm going. I tell her the fuck out of here. That I can't take it anymore. That she's had it out for me since the day she moved in. Scared that I might remind my father of what he used to have. 

Poem For A New Year
by Kelly Schirmann

Jordan Castro

People like to talk about the year ending

like it’s old fruit you can just toss out

Something that’ll decompose naturally

and painlessly into your yard


This is Western Thought at its finest

To hold something in your palm

and entertain the illusion

that you either need it or you don't

Road Rage
by Scott McClanahan

Jordan Castro

I was doing a lot better with my road rage. One day Chris and I were coming back from the store and I hadn’t even called anyone “Fucker” or “Look at that stupid motherfucker” or “Fucking move it buddy.”  I wasn’t flipping anybody off or shaking my fist or talking about how the whole earth needed a new extinction.  “Who cares about saving the earth.  I thought the purpose of life was to destroy it.” I wasn’t making sweeping generalizations about entire groups of people or shouting insane shit.  Of course, Chris usually never let me drive when we went someplace, but he seemed to notice how calm I was today.

excerpt of Bandit
by Molly Brodak

Jordan Castro

14 My first memory happened on a stairwell, and stairwells have had special resonance as meaningful sites for me ever since. I was three years old, maybe. The stairs were wide and thin, the kind with no back to the steps, just floating slats. It was sunny and the room was white and yellow, the stairwell of an apartment building. Mom was ahead of me, on the steps above, holding paper bags of groceries in both arms. I fell. I was belly down on the steps, and I could see through the emptiness behind and under us. I can see...

Four Poems by
Alex Mussawir

Jordan Castro


Emily says she would probably pee on another person during sex
but would not let the other person pee on her
and I tell her I’ve always felt that the person’s diet
seems important when thinking about it
and we make eye contact briefly
while crossing Hudson street

The sun is out
a few piles of snow remain from winter, pushed against the sidewalks
and I watch Emily begin to hold her sweater differently,
this time by draping it over her right forearm

Service Industry
by Mallory Whitten

Jordan Castro

Service Industry <br>by Mallory Whitten</br>
two men walk into the diner at 8:20 AM. i am the only server. i greet them and tell them they can sit wherever they want. one of them starts walking to a booth. the other is tall and large, standing by the counter, and says, “you aren’t going to seat me?” i laugh and tell him “this isn’t that type of place, your friend seems to know where to sit” as nicely as i can. he stares at me and puts out his hand. i shake his hand. “my name is shawn.” “i’m mallory.” his hand is huge around mine and he doesn't let go right away.

Interview with Harrison Ford, 2019
by Brad Phillips

Jordan Castro

- Good afternoon Mr. Ford. It really was quite a bit of working tracking you down.
- Nice to meet you - I, I can't remember if you gave me your name.
- Absolutely Mr. Ford, absolutely. So, you're closing in on eighty years old right now! You're really just hanging tight there aren't you? No more Mr. Leading Man I guess, I mean no, not unless you're leading a band of geriatric...
- I'm sorry, what paper did you say you were from?
- Absolutely. Listen, anyone ever call you Harry? Back in the day maybe, the good old days as they say.
- No, never.
- Three syllables are a bit much no? So, Harry tell me.
- Where's the camera? The notebook? Who's that man making a sandwich in my kitchen?

Four Poems
by Kimmy Walters

Jordan Castro


I don’t use crystals because they’re magical but because they’re cold and heavy, oh,
I put a jar of honey in the middle

I don’t claim to know what I’m doing

Two Poems
by Michael W. Clune

Jordan Castro


A camera is a little cave 
Where a spider lives. The photographer
Puts his eye to the cave’s mouth and 
Pushes the button. The spider comes out and 
Bites the eye, which swells, turning into
An organ of his dead body, which floats 
Beside his living body. The eye is the heart 
Of the dead body. This is how colors 
Come to occupy the space
After consciousness. 

Four Poems
by Elizabeth Ellen

Jordan Castro


Tanja says I am too controlled

Which is ironic because I was just saying I felt a real lack of control
In my life

“Your life is kind of claustrophobic,” she said
Or maybe I said that to her, about my life, and she agreed

“I don’t think it’s good for you to not talk to someone you want to talk to,” Tanja said. 

She said, “I believe jealousy is 100% the responsibility of the jealous person.”

Jordan Castro
by Zachary German

Jordan Castro

One stop car audio. An advertising jingle: a woman singing the words, One stop car audio. Digital editing extends the final syllable of the word audio, shifts the pitch to make it be six or eight syllables. O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o. Eight syllables. I’m in the car, my mother’s car. Years later I’ll have my own car. My mother’s father will get confused, is it in reverse or is it in neutral. He only uses it to drive from their cottage to the dining hall, at their retirement community. Now a van will come take them to dinner.​     I’ll try to...

Recurring Intrusive Thoughts
by Juliet Escoria

Jordan Castro

Sometimes when I think about myself, I see my body on the beach. Except there is no water. So I guess it’s actually a desert. I see my body in the desert, splayed across the sand and the sun is very bright. It is hot. It is so hot that my skin gets soft, a little softer, and then it begins to melt. My nose flops over first, and then my thighs go, and my breasts are dripping down in rivulets, across my ribcage, trickling down my armpits. My organs sludge out too, staining the sand wet, and then all that’s left are my bones. I am very skinny.

Lucky You
by David Fishkind

Jordan Castro

Lucky You <br>by David Fishkind</br>
They gave her painkillers and said she couldn’t drink, but Lena was drinking when she texted she was drinking, just a little.
     I went to work and put my feet up on the desk. I called her, and she didn’t pick up. I texted that I’d order something, some clothes or records or something, to be mailed to her. I asked if there’s anything she wanted from New York.

Two Poems
by Precious Okoyomon

Jordan Castro

someone somewhere is getting off on all this death

Imitate eternity
    Brutalized sweetness
                    I started taking adderall to become a good person overnight
Like always being in the sun
All that's left to do is give up fear
 lol  good luck

Three Excerpts from 'Squirtgun,' an Unpublished Novel
by Sam Pink

Jordan Castro

Three Excerpts from 'Squirtgun,' an Unpublished Novel <br>by Sam Pink</br>
My girlfriend and I are regulars at the gas station closest to us. It's really the only late night option for water or a snack. So we ride our bikes through the bayou to see our favorite late night employee, Jo. Jo is probably 43. She wears her hair like a pro wrestler from the ‘80s. She drives a green station wagon filled with stuffed animals. The stuffed animals are arranged in the passenger side seat and backseat and are even hanging from the rearview mirror. She has them in some kind of order, with the biggest in the back/center and the smaller ones arranged around them, like a bouquet. It's really beautiful.

Deathlord Grows Bored
by Blake Butler

Jordan Castro


My name is Xjdwliuerowuieriowueriuouoieuwoiruo, and I am bored of the spinning fields. Bored of the nowhere between nothing and the grasp of the planets my mother’s armies colonized for me to learn the face of death from. I have been alive for my whole life and no longer wish to be so easy to impress. I want a new doll with a new face that I can erase forever and still remember the next day. 

We are not currently looking at unsolicited submissions for publication at Tyrant Books. Please check back at a later date or have your agent contact us at

Thank you -Gian

Copyright © 2017 New York Tyrant