The lines of a speculative haiku can appear to make no sense when you read it as it is. Once you unravel its form, you may find yourself spending much time contemplating and uncovering the nuances and layers of its words. — Haiku is not meant to be read literally. It is meant to be sipped like a steaming cup of sakura tea, letting all its flavor slowly permeate your tastebuds. I liken haiku to a puzzle. …

Neil Gaiman’s Darkest Tale ‘24 Hour Diner’ Stirs Our Greatest Fears — I first read Neil Gaiman’s graphic novel series The Sandman at age 16. Most of the stories are faint memories now but one remained like a stain that refuses to be removed: 24 Hour Diner. If you’ve read it, you’ll know what I mean. 24 Hour Diner is dark, disturbing…

Even in horror movies, cats behave as cats do. It is time we make them the heroes. — As a lifetime cat lover, it thrills me to no end when I see a cat in a movie. I tell my cat Kit, “Look, there’s representation there!” She ignores me and later asks for a scritch. What I loved most about the movie Alien was the cat Jonesy doing…

How Netflix’s The Sandman deals with Death in That Iconic Scene — Note: This article contains spoilers for The Sandman (Netflix, 2022). Death is kind. Death is compassionate. I know I’m not the only person who cried watching the Death episode of Netflix’s recent adaptation of The Sandman. In the sixth episode of the series, “The Sound of Her Wings,” Death finds…

A poem about a spell gone wrong — My dearest Momma, Your spell worked. I am safe now, me and Teddy. But something went wrong. The rest of the world is dead, Even you and Kitty. I guess When you cast the spell Wishing for me to be safe, You didn’t expect The solution would be that Everyone else had to be dead…

The bond between a mother and her daughter is unbreakable — Too many decades now I have spent coasting High in the skies, My wings outstretched, Reaching for freedom. Yet, once every year, I return to the ground, Return to human-form And visit my mother On her birthday. “How are your adventures,” She asks as she always does. “The same,” I reply. She leans…

A poem about trauma and healing — I. I learned many truths After the life I knew ended. After my father died, After those I loved lied. A small flame lit up And unmasked the truth. Inside the glimmer of lies, Through the fog of night. My life was an illusion, Built to control and imprison. II. I learned…