The Crazy Old Toothless Man on the Bus The crazy old toothless man on the bussat all alone,an oasis of just him,near the center of the bus on the leftand he kept saying,to no one in particular,They’ll fucking get you,get you no matter what.It’s useless to fight it,we all get it in the ass with … Continue reading John Tustin →

Some Poets Are Like Porn Stars Some poets are like porn starsAnd that starts with the ease in earning the title.Just fucking on film makes an actor a star;Just breaking up lines makes a writer a poet –At least to the disinterested general public. Anyway,They come out of nowhere to appear in every pop-up journal … Continue reading John Tustin →

Clinging Clinging to your bogus patriotismand your antique religion:your misguided and blind acceptance of – and deference to-the family,as if they are a connection of lily padsleading from shore to paradisical shore. Each false feeling, every comfortable untruthsinking you deeper into your complacent morass. You redesign your mind in orange florescenceand knock down all the load-bearing … Continue reading John Tustin →

Sex Games  You could be youngerand getting wet thinking aboutdancing for me,aiming to please;shaking that phat azz at the edge of my bedwhile I get all worked upover that mesmerizing shimmering flesh or you could be getting old like me,wanting the attention someone elsehas made you feel like you don’t deserve,finally emerging from that pit … Continue reading John Tustin →

It’s Too Cold I wake up in the middle of the night because I have to pissbut the room, it’s too cold,so I just lie here in the darkand I think about it. I really have to pissbut I’m stuck under the blankets,my nose sticking out like a thermostat.I should get up, just do it … Continue reading John Tustin →

Adanna Adanna says she loves meBut Adanna doesn’t really love me.Adanna says she hates meBut Adanna doesn’t really hate me.Adanna says she just wants to get fuckedBut Adanna wants more than just to get fucked.I understand. I just want to fuckBut I want more than to just fuck.Adanna says, “Yes, daddy” when I tell her … Continue reading John Tustin →

Hemingway’s Shotgun I need Hemingway’s shotgun.I need Dylan Thomas’ shot glassFilled to the brim.I need Bukowski’s Leukemia,I need Anne Sexton to leave the car running.I need a stein filled with heart attacks,Strokes, aneurisms,A robbery gone awry. I need birds streaking across the skyAs I fall to the earth with a dull thud.I need wolves tearing … Continue reading John Tustin →

Deb I keep thinking of her,just one of many who ghosted me,to use the 21st century parlance. I keep thinking of her,so-so looking,incredibly stupid,nice thighs in the pictures,sturdy fleshy body.That’s the way I thought about her –like chicken parts,something I wanted to tear intojust because I was famished.I imagine the things I would do to herif … Continue reading John Tustin →

The Pretty Young Lady in the Black Wig The pretty young lady in the black wig And I Got into a conversation And during the conversationShe told me she liked to collect dead things And when I asked her what dead things she collectedThe pretty young lady in the black wigBecame disinterestedAnd began talking to someone else So … Continue reading John Tustin →

RANTING AS THE CLOCK STRIKES THREE It’s another night where it’s too hotBut not so hot that I can comfortably Sleep nakedSo I don’t sleep and the fan overheadWhispers almost imperceptibly Whir whir whir whir whir Tomorrow will be another morningWith either the sun like a cudgelComing down on my bodyOr the rain an endless rasp of … Continue reading John Tustin →