Jim Gustafson is the author of three books of poetry: Friar Fred’s Diary (Big Table 2018), Unassisted Living (Big Table 2017), Driving Home (Aldrich Press 2013). His poems have appeared in Rattle, Poetry Quarterly, Tishman Review, The New Guard, Prick of the Spindle, and other journals. He holds an M. Div. from Garrett Theological Seminary at Northwestern University in his hometown of Evanston, Illinois and an MFA from the University of Tampa. He teaches Creative Writing at Florida Gulf Coast University. 

Jim and his wife Connie live in Fort Myers, Florida where he reads, writes, and pulls weeds.

Poem written 18^th April 2020

No Words

Sometimes there just aren’t any words,” 

said Forest Gump as  Jenny sits crying 

in the dust infront of the abandon house. 

She has just thrown stones at it, 

for it is the memories  at which we throw stones. 

These weeks are memories deserving of stones. Trapped within ourselves texting to remind each other