Tristan Buttigieg is a singer-songwriter, musician and poet.
I stood at the edge of the gorge near the abandoned Allegheny coal mine.
I watch my grandson navigate his morning clothes, these undies, those shorts, this shirt, who cares what color, challenging what his three-year-old brain knows of spatial geometry …
You ask what fills the air this moonless night; barefoot, we move toward the scent. Moist grass summons childhood and trees are giants on the path.
Chalfont, Pennsylvania To rest beneath a canopy of sky Dappled by euphoric blossoms Pink as dawn and fragile ...
(Celebrating the 215th anniversary of Bethlehem A.M.E. Church, Langhorne) barrels of light etched itself across a log cabin, bearing a magnitude as gentle as a dove resting at dawn.
im 16 and i love strawberries and perfectly ripe peaches. i grew up in jersey and i love it there too. everything is legal in new jersey. im good at painting and bad at confrontation. i care too much …
What did I want to do when I came back to write — to detail the drift — two wild hares a dead mouse, a tiny beautiful owl one of the hares chewed up and now this —a tortoise’s muddy back — …
Wind chimes hang high in the branches Above a roughhewn house on a hill of cedar Suspended by a single golden hair A rooster crows in the distance I wake and the vision fades But still the dream …
Even during the storm, tonight’s moonlight is generous enough to wend its way through the blinds, shifting patterns on my pillow. So here it is, this full moon in late March, on the cusp of spring, …
Snow soft and pretty on a windy winter day, pure white and undisturbed, it beckons us to play. Pushed by plows, the cars fly by. Snow blackens from the dirt, soon becoming something else, something we call …
I lay with this man and no one else for forty years or more. I lay with this man and no one else I love him to his core. I lay with this man and no one else since I became his wife. I lay with this man and …
Last night I uncovered poemshid so well it took me fifteen years to find them,a ribbon tied around a packet of blue linenas if whoever bound those sonnetswanted whoever unwrapped themto appreciate …
She will you know. It begins early morning, as the sun shines down her belly, blinding you with her glaring beauty. She is much more than divine. And that’s the first trick. She beckons with the sweet …
Much is blamed on women. How we wear our beauty, for example: boldly, irresponsibly, flash and flaunt, or not at all: mouse dropping drab. It’s 1948, girls are singing, wearing white, a chorus from the …
Strange voices, but not off key thousands, but all in harmony. I can hear them calling me. All past versions of what lives with me. Each having their own bit of complexity ,to the song that is …
o friends let us let go of the rocks let us each take a leaf from the ground let us each take a leaf and let it rest for a breath let us each take a leaf and let it float on the breeze let us each hold a …
“The wind is like a bully”pushing leaves; breaking branches; roughing skin; biting faces. Nothing like the warm smoothe breeze of Saint Lucia caressing…assuaging tension the sound of the ocean travels …
Icy, wet afternoonOut of place in MayBroken heartShatteredAmongst standard steel desksScattered photographsOf a happier timeHeart, you have no place here.Faded fatiguesHow proudly you …
Icy, wet afternoon Out of place in May Broken heart Shattered Amongst standard steel desks Scattered photographs Of a happier time Heart, you have no place here. Faded fatigues How proudly you …
