“Dustin King would always rather be sneaking a bottle of wine into a movie theater. When nothing good is playing, he teaches Spanish and exchanges dreams with loved ones in Richmond, Va. His poems pop up in The Potomac Review, The Tusculum Review, Ligeia, Feral, Blood and Bourbon, Horror/Sleaze/Trash, Marrow Magazine, South Broadway Ghost Society, and other rad spots. He is a Best of the Net nominee and a poetry reader for Sublunary Review. He curates the poetry and performance event "Yodel Farm."”
". . . Welcome
to paradise, whoops Juan over
and over into a duct-taped
microphone. I can feel it coming in
the air tonight . . . Oh lord. I despise
Genesis but I can’t not sing along.
. . . Eduardo asks why gringos say
that’s funny but don’t laugh.
The ocean is so many blues:
flint, turquoise, celadon, lilac,
too mesmerizing for poetry.
The sunset comes out
scrunched, colors muted,
the moon a dirty pinprick over
blurry coastline. We grin big
and take the selfie anyway."
A handmade book featuring a poem reflecting on a stay in Mexico.
Sewn, 20,5 x 13,5 cm, 28 pages, numbered/49, No.4 Vol.13 in the Summer Kitchen Series, (Cincinnati) 2025
