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 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 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 →

There were years when the sun came up red And the ground was wet and cool in the morning And I woke up on some of those mornings Determined to tilt windmills So I went out there and I tried.   And what I have learned is that the windmills Not only do not move:… Continue Reading →

These memories are a pavement Going on uninterrupted for miles, Wet with the rain, beautiful from Afar and slippery when trodden. They are where I slip and fall each Night and where I awaken each Morning, getting myself up and Continuing to walk this sidewalk That goes on and on yet leads me Nowhere but… Continue Reading →

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 →