Edition 7
When the lepus looked skyward, it saw constellations spelling new horrors. The universe, it seems, delights in our trembling.
06 Oct 2023Editions
Edition 6
Beneath the flickering candlelight, every poem becomes a séance. The veil is thinner here, and the words remember what you’ve done.
26 Sep 2023
Edition 5
Ink dripped like blood into the soil of forgotten myth. What grew from it was neither plant nor prose, but something hungry.
31 Aug 2023