Avalanche by John Tustin

I have tried to bury you In a mountain of typed pages. All of these pages, The nightly tappity tap of the keyboard As my mind goes backward to moments, Sentences, a touch Trapped always in the amber inside my skull. This mountain, it keeps growing And growing. Sometimes, like last night, I began to… Continue Reading →

Language by John Tustin

The noises echo at night With no one else on the street. There are no streetlamps And the headlights have to do too much work. I try to interpret the signs, The sounds as best I can Because I can hardly see anything. Since I moved here I’ve forgotten much more Than I’ve learned. Since… Continue Reading →

Bail by John Tustin

The water streaming in from a million little holes And swirling around my white and increasingly frail Ankles I look for you To help me bail And I call your name And the water spurts in In otherwise silence To my knobby white knees As I watch it rise And I bail Calling Calling your… Continue Reading →

Hanged by John Tustin

I hanged myself beneath the tree Where we first kissed That kiss has followed me Although you have not And even now in death It lies warm upon my lips Warm and burning Soothing and bright Upon lips now dead But still so alive with the phantom of you About the Poet: John Tustin’s poetry… Continue Reading →

The Stars are Naked by John Tustin

The stars are naked And when they cast their eyes down upon me, Tossed like a million dice, I shiver in my clothes and blankets – Wishing I could be concealed. About the Poet: John Tustin is currently suffering in exile on the island of Elba but hopes to return to you soon. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to… Continue Reading →

The Dark Place by John Tustin

The dark place where these words come from and all the other ones; this bottomless well of emptiness, this black pit with no sound or sight or smell. I pluck the words from there like grapes from a vine and I don’t know how they got there or why I’m the one chosen to retrieve… Continue Reading →

And Sadness by John Tustin

It’s the noise the used umbrella makes when it’s closed and thuds wetly on the floor and it’s the boy waving wanly goodbye and getting on the bus and it’s her trying to be nice to you because she wants something and your skin crawls more than usual and it’s the same songs cynically played… Continue Reading →

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