Oliver Dai

  • The Smell

    The Smell

    Oliver Dai

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    The smell. It comes from nowhere, no origin For whether it was being or illusion, Even metacognition offers no solution. But even a whiff transports my soul, To an…

  • Lament of a Fading Past

    Lament of a Fading Past

    Oliver Dai

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    A Tour of Great Passing Red glares of flare enclose the browning sands, To sketch evenings with shades of swarthy light. Shadowless smoke clears blood from tainted lands, Where…