Following these hints will ensure that fear is managed adequately and without unnecessary fuss.

Give ‘men’ like this a badge, a rule, a gun

meditation, two

The Founding Fathers return from the afterlife to discover what America did with the Constitution. They are not impressed. In this Signal Thread–style satire, ghosts rewrite the Sixth Amendment, arguing about speedy trials, juries, plea deals, and why PowerPoint should never be admissible evidence.

Birds fall from the sky

A call for poets, glitchers, microfictionists, rebels, and ghosts. The Underland Review wants work that twitches, burns, self-destructs. We are extending our deadling to February 5th 2026 for the next edition of the zine!

A call for poets, glitchers, microfictionists, rebels, and ghosts. The Underland Review wants work that twitches, burns, self-destructs. No bios. No AI sludge. No gods. Just stories that shouldn't exist.

The kettle hissed long before she remembered to pour it. The sound had always comforted her. It was unconventional people used to say…

There are nights when silence moves like prey.

The soft O of your lullaby cracked like the wound, We once called progress for a farthing or two.

They told us to smile. Eyes white. Teeth on show. Beam. "Ні, ні, люба. Очима. Посміхнися очима. Їм потрібно тебе бачити," I am sorry.

River Joy September, 2025 Here, In the slant of first morning light Mangoes taste like honey and The kind of sex Gods had Before man named its master. Birds sing with abandon And a quiet grace They know what it Is to be born. And when the rain falls Giving breath To leaves That have known the time of the sun, Before the clock Domesticated it. There is a stillness We must learn anew To remember.

We’re settling into a routine in Thailand—the house is coming together, and I’m waiting on a volunteer post that could lead to my teaching certificate. Celia helped pull together a portfolio site, which reminded me how much my art has shifted over the years. I’m still looping Eragon at night while searching for a new epic fantasy, and we’ve found a driver, Nan, who makes errands far easier. I’ve started offering prints of my Thailand photography, and through it all, life feels both surreal and deeply grounding with Celia by my side.

Visa stress, estate agent limbo, butterfly murder, and Bar Rescue theology. We're two weeks from flying to Thailand and everything's falling apart — but at least Mowgli found catnip.

River is stepping forward to focus on art while Celia teaches. After years without a steady practice, River is reclaiming the title of artist by treating life like a residency—committing to eat, sleep, and breathe art again. Process has always mattered more than finished pieces, though some works, especially from the long-running Faces series, stand out. These portraits explore tension, unease, and the experience of being neurodivergent, particularly the discomfort of eye contact. River continues to paint faces and make photographs, and is now seeking funding and residencies to expand the series with mixed media elements such as fabric and beads, pushing the work into new dimensions. #BangkokEats #ThailandFoodie #WhatToEatInThailand #BangkokTravel #SushiLovers #ShabuShabu #ArtistInThailand #PrintifyShop #FoodAndArt

Visa stress, estate agent limbo, butterfly murder, and Bar Rescue theology. We're two weeks from flying to Thailand and everything's falling apart — but at least Mowgli found catnip.

Aubergine. The colour of the bruise long after the violence stops and love begins to heal.

They say there’s an autism “epidemic.” We say: there’s finally a name for what’s always been here. This piece isn’t here to educate pseudoscientists or calm conspiracy theorists. It’s a record. A reclamation. A reminder that autistic people don’t owe anyone an explanation—and we certainly don’t need your mother-blaming, McNugget-fuelled theories. We were autistic before you had a word for it. And we’re not asking for your permission now.

Trump descends but Alba clenches a grudge, This orange blowhard thief who stole the green. The kilted fascist’s vanity won’t budge. Still…

Crystals rising, light shifting, a name forming but unsaid. In this suspended moment, the speaker is --ing.

Visa stress, estate agent limbo, butterfly murder, and Bar Rescue theology. We're two weeks from flying to Thailand and everything's falling apart — but at least Mowgli found catnip.