The 23rd in Dublin
“They’re tearing the country apart”, He says as he sets a bus alight. “Ireland for the Irish”, He calls in the November night. “Look after…
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(P.S. poetry series) Insular Unit
It feels like personal prison, at the cage a guarding dog named Otis, seasonal change goes by unnoticed, no reason for’em, times and the rage…
(P.S. poetry series) Kosovo
On a daily basis, shapes are formed… loose, wrong. How long? How strong? We stand on the ground of a ruined foundation, divided nations, Life…