Poetry: Bullies by Mark Tulin
I am a pushover. I let people call themselves my friends. Give clowns and vagabonds permission to insult me, stompContinue Reading
I am a pushover. I let people call themselves my friends. Give clowns and vagabonds permission to insult me, stompContinue Reading
Like an over-tuned fiddle, the music is painful, notes of neglect, stanzas of heartache. Hamstrings don’t lie, we do. TheContinue Reading
She’s disjointed Shattered Gaunt and sunken A cubist A Picasso Unable to eat Fearing life Broken and abused Looking ButContinue Reading
Grandma cranks the tuna can with an old fashioned opener, making sure not to get cut on the edges.Continue Reading
Hiked the trail down to the Chumash fire pit. Threw spiritual logs into the fire. Felt the native spirit inContinue Reading
I sit quietly at this moment with a slight lift of the hips, legs folded, little finger touching thumb, heartContinue Reading






