No one wants to / be reminded of / the brutal beauty / of becoming.


Image shows a small black moth in the center of stacked white frames, on a white background.

voice in air: afterthought

I / stare at the spider’s manifold legs / & little clawed mandible flickering / with evening’s shine, tittering / corners of death’s bite.

A thunderstorm with lightning striking, rendered in greyscale.

Thunder Over a Nation

I hear / the camps devour people whole, / sweeping the last crumbs of life / under the rug of genocide.