On the Sacred Discipline of Cutting Kindness
Begin with reverence— your edge, a fine and fervent tongue, a truth-beveled sliver of steel, in trembling, fire-tempered hands. Stand firm, dear blade, in whispers and whetstone murmurs; angle yourself…
Begin with reverence— your edge, a fine and fervent tongue, a truth-beveled sliver of steel, in trembling, fire-tempered hands. Stand firm, dear blade, in whispers and whetstone murmurs; angle yourself…
You wake up tired, scroll bad news until it blurs. Answer emails, jaw clenched tight— or can’t even bear to look. You say “I’m fine” with three tabs…
Řekli mi, že Češi jsou zavření jak okna v lednu. Že se neusmívají, nezvou, že ticho tu studí, a pohostinnost se schovává za dveře. Řekli mi, že mi bude zima—…
A Burning Haibun They made sleep political. Not in headlines, but in forms, in protocols, in the quiet ways a schedule tells you whether your body belongs. You can’t…
I'm not even sure if this one counts as poetry, but click through to find out……
Little pink tablet, smooth-edged promise, stamped plainly: Pfizer on one cheek, 25 LLN on the other— three pressed nightly through foiled windows, serials and stamps faint as breath in aluminum…