And Tall Goblets Of Petrichor, For We Who Devour Our Gods

to suffer the burden of seeing beauty in everything, the unquiet ache of knowing, the peerless stinging grief of beholding: the perfect polished wholeness of each unbreathing moment, every newfolded leaf or shifting shade of honeyed of honeyed greygold dappling decayed parchment of shed foliage masking lowtrodden paths between trees, Read more

HEADLINE: “ISIS claimed responsibility after a 17-year-old migrant attacked”

“I don’t want to live in Europe anymore,” my friend Domagoj says, after a maniac mows down pedestrians with a truck in Nice on Bastille Day “what the fuck” being our shared sentiment at the appalling stream of neverending newsfeeds of firsthand accounts of terror and grief and huddling in Read more