foam & exile

many moons ago
where the sands meet the grey sea
the moose left footprints
leading nowhere & beyond
the call of glowering gulls

where were they going
how were they so far from home
who will ever know

many suns ago
when we did not fear the waves
we left a kelp chain
‘tween the sand dollars & jags
& the smell of iodine

where were we going
dull heavens in place of home
keys sunk in the sea

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

odds & shells

rain waters carry down the street
somebody’s orange flip flops
now, could that hue be less discreet
hell’s bells, no, probably not

maybe somewhere in darkest drains
mutant turtles wait for the drop
flip flops plopping into the mains
nab ’em for keeps, ready or not

sitting ‘tween soaked pizza cartons
two small, obnoxiously bright suns
they would’ve preferred doc martens
but beggars can’t be choosers, hun

later tonight when rain in’s done
all of their non-refundables
out of warranty dibs & dums
will join the flip flop cupboard rubble

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

Tumblevision #45

My webcomic Crumble Cult has been updated and relaunched. I’d love if you read the hell out of it and perhaps even told me what you think. It feels good to have it up and eyes on it again!

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2026

retrofitting salvation

snowfall
shrouded the roofs
festooned with icicles
antennas’ calvary crosses
preaching

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2026

overcooked

there’s a flame in the heart of mankind
that time & tide long to extinguish
from the first fires of the cavemen
to the rockets of dim oligarchs

the torches along the tower walk
a monk’s passage towards the heavens
from the gloom of the middle ages
to supposedly more enlightened times

if we cannot adapt
then we are cooked
all the tines in our guts
how are we not forked

a torch is lit in olympia
an eternal flame recalls the war
nothing has changed through the course of time
just the way in which we’ve stored the launch codes

an appetite for self-destruction
burns within the desire to live
the heart of al dente common sense
3-star michelin vaut le voyage

if we will not adapt
then we are royally cooked
all of time in the guts
how are we not forked

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025