Residual Snakes

Swapping Geigers for scales we sweep the landscape for leftovers, searching for residue that clings to the surface like scalded shadows. Slithering vicariously across the

Deep-sea Tremors

From buried cracks And open wounds Shrouded scales Begin to seep. Cutting across murky waters Into buried memories And forgotten half-truths, Inky fingerprints Preserve their

Ancient Cooling

Humid summer sun… The pores of the city clogged With our human sweat – You deftly sprinkle water Cool our streets and cleanse our sins

The Blessed Birds Will Sing No More

The Blessed Island was so poorly named, As from that day in March the land was cursed. Did Nature feel that mankind should be blamed?