I suck the hard thing. A bitter pill, it makes me ill with yellow sorrow. My heart aches from lessons never learned, life never earned. A hollow muscular organ that pumps the blood through the circulatory system by rhythmic contraction and dilation, it says boom, boom. I gulp down oblong globs of dolour that nothing…… Continue reading Op-ed

Number 73

The number 73 bus drove into my life with a spectacularly high statistical likelihood of opening its doors to me. I distrust poetry. It makes language perform and turn tricks. It is algebra without the proofs, alchemy without the excuse of ignorance. It yodels into the void. It scans and jams. It pitter-patters. It tells…… Continue reading Number 73


Her body, like so many bodies, was found buried in a forest. The discovery of the (26-yr-old) corpse was announced on the news as J was driving to pick me up from Jonava railway station. She was crying as we hugged on the platform, passengers, visiting for the weekend, streaming by. The senselessness and randomness…… Continue reading Juju