Latest Works

My mind, memories, and soul came into being—like waking up, only somehow, I was already awake. My dim cabin aboard the Samsa was more...

cough in your throat, snake in the woodpile, outside, the poets remember too loudly— quiet, please, time is passing. every morning cracks...

It was time to venture out again. He didn’t particularly enjoy these journeys, but at least they were a reason to escape the monotony...