After my father’s funeral, in my mother’s living room of cheap recliners, a television terminal with audio gloom, and a sofa of sags, an aunt’s pipe-smoking husband asked, Are you going to have kids? I scowled, Not your business, but no. He said, Come on, Clare, let’s go, your nephew didn’t like my question, and as they drove away... Continue Reading →

There is a hole In the back of my soul That I cannot reach To repair   No matter how I bend Or twist   And that is how The light Keeps getting in Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com About the Poet: John Tustin is currently suffering in exile on the island of Elba but... Continue Reading →

All you can give Will no longer be enough. We are now beyond that point-- Already erased and righted By the offenses attached to your name. Another lifetime ago, It seemed our desires would strangle each other. There was no light between us; But the past has been lost to you. You see the invisible,... Continue Reading →

why is the walk back from the bar or the movie weighed with feet and darkest nights? hangovers and friendship evaporated, wise things I said, why is it they turn into stupid at the stroke of midnight?   why, oh why, is nascent nightly glow extinguished by voicemails and bills that fill inboxes and deadlines,... Continue Reading →

In the waiting room I stare down at my worn shoes, holes in the fabric where a child's superhero sneakers might light up. Contrasting dirt brown against sterile white flooring, the picture is familiar and again I wonder if these feet will ever bring good news to someone like me in the future. I guess... Continue Reading →

It was like running cool water over your wrists On the hottest day of the summer. Windless and wordless.   Like clouds lumbering up the slope of the sky Burdened with moisture like Sherpas Who do this for the money.   Like those who died on the trek Wanting to accomplish something They could not... Continue Reading →

Still sheathed in silk velvet and lacquer with a flesh-smudged mask of henna, I glide out to the lanai. The tangerine night light shines down against the greenery of morning. I dip into my bag, find Klimt peacocked Murano, and bowl the cottony sipper of my narcotic— Alpinist 99. I look to my left. A... Continue Reading →

It is not Spring. It’s winter.   Everyone in attendance is chilled and shaking.   Not even dark suits and dresses can warm them. Yes, buds are opening, wild flowers peeping through the emerging grasses. But that’s just nature. Its seasons cycle. Ours come and go. Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com About the Poet:... Continue Reading →

I tear out my bones and rearrange them while the woman at the counter cries silently into a lukewarm coffee mug.   I wish I had the answers, I say, but the country is too cold, and the moon, pale and rambling, keeps blocking my view of the ocean.   In the middle of a... Continue Reading →