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

Tumblevision #44

I’m nearly done updating the original ‘Crumble Cult’ webcomic, and it’ll be back online soon. So, look out for that.

It’s shocking how personal I got with this project, as it touches on matters such as clinical depression, religious deconstruction and suicidal ideation—you know, the fun stuff we all like to not talk about. 🙄

And yet, somehow, I managed to infuse it all with some whimsy and magical realism too. So, I feel somewhat… well, proud of that?! Damn, that feels weird to say.

This webcomic took me three years to produce, and it was never completed. I hope to one day but for now the graphic novel must come first. More thoughts later.

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2026

dum spiro spero

a grain doesn’t know where it falls
it trusts in the hand of the sower
but trust can be as blind as the bat
that beats it down even lower
into the ground

a grain doesn’t know where it falls
it trusts in the richness of the soil
but soil can spoil in the winter
where it becomes harder to toil
into nature’s crown

a grain doesn’t know where it falls
it can only sprout up in bare faith
but faith can be pared down further
by the taxman’s loathing of waste
in for a pound

a grain doesn’t know where it falls
can bloom ‘tween stones with its last gasp
but a last gasp is as transient
as a world that burns in the blast
of a nuked town

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

nettle track

that is the place
where everything starts
fog in the trees
in the nettled heart

a tiny silhouette
a pouch on a stick
on demeter’s eve
on the move real quick

smoking pipe stuffed
with tobacco balm
a rite of refocus
or deleterious harm

fragile & daring
i follow my dream
between the wolf’s howl
& the night bird’s keen

that is the place
that i’ll journey to
for to make our peace
i’ll be waiting for you

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025