Sep 13, 2025
FOG
— Alfred Lichtenstein, 1913
A floating fog has destroyed the world In soft annihilation. Bloodless trees Dissolve in smoke. Shadows gather in places where screaming is still heard. Creatures burn and disintegrate; and their ashes float upon the air.
Gas-lamps hover like captured fireflies, Each flickering as though trying to escape. But drifting sideways through the upper dark— There, the poisonous moon, frog-like and bloated, Lurking in webs of mist like a malicious spider.
And though we are the damned, fit only for death, We march out of spite across these shattered landscapes Of desolate splendor, our wretched eyes dull white As bone or as fate, lunging forth like weapons Of war to cleave open night’s immensity.
