The crows they passed nor wisdom lent, Save edicts of their own intent— Decrees of self, in echoes thrown, Till every voice was praise alone. Oh! Ghastly flock! Oh! Vain parade! Your kingdom’s built on rot and shade. For when the...

Rewriting Memory   There was always a kind of sadness in your eyes Even when you were baby and looked at me There was always this emotive tone in your voice So young and yet so full of melancholy   In those days there was an...

As a child, I felt the quiet and the melancholia on my mom's face, she never hummed, she never sangbut she put beans on the plate with tearsas I counted my toes, one times one and I whispered..."Mom, is...

April 7th risesnot like a dawnbut like a curtain being pulled backon a stage that has been waitingfor centuries. It is the day of empty skulls,not dead,not forgotten,just hollowed cleanby the slow, patient erosionof everything that once matteredtoo much. These skulls...