The Froth and the Fury
–—haunting, the ghostly in-between that leaves you half-awake, half-asleep, and wholly unsatisfied. You asked for half, you got the ghost,A shadow cup,…
The Froth and the Fury
–—the last word that lingers on the tongue, whether you wanted it to or not. The cup was gone, the mug was…
The Froth and the Fury
–—a sharp little sip of sweetness hiding betrayal in its crema. A single mark, a spot of white,A promise soft, a fleeting…
Poems from the Fault Line
–—Svalbard, 78°14′N, 15°29′E You were builtnot for now,but for the afterward.For the hush after the howl,the smoke after the signing of the…
SIPS AND VERSES
–—what once burned now glows faintly; bourbon, Campari, and vermouth smoldering in the ruins. The bourbon struck like fallen beams,Campari bled in…
The Froth and the Fury
–—a foamy betrayal in stainless steel, whispering promises it never intended to keep. It hummed and whirred, a hopeful sound,A promise soft,…
Opinion Piece
–In the early ’80s, I read No Exit and The Stranger back-to-back, sitting cross-legged on my bedroom floor, somewhere between Atari and…
The Froth and the Fury
–—a shot so tight and relentless it feels like the walls are closing in. Sartre would sip it black, without sugar, and…
Loophole: A Philosophy of Exceptions
–The man who rolled through the stop sign drove on, unaware that his small rebellion had been logged and studied. Yet his…
The Froth and the Fury
–—a cup as restless as the city that claims it, bold on the surface but rotting somewhere under the neon. It poured…
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