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Rincent Van Uggh

Rincent Van Uggh

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  • Grass

    Grass is cold but grass is spiky.Grass don’t fold and me no likey.

    admin

    2026-06-28
    Art, Poetry
  • When I Fall

    Sat on a chair or flat on the floor,My body is still but inside I’m not sure.Something within, spirit, soul, light, hormones,Detaches and moves, untethered from bones. Once I was heavy and fell through the floor,My body was in class, but my head wasn’t sure.The thing within sank into the ground,I could have kept sinking…

    admin

    2026-06-28
    Art, Poetry
    poem
  • Tire Fire

    A grim grey sky stretches over black fields,Constructed from haphazard piles of rubber.The artificial hills sit stationary.An uneasy quietude.A foreboding sense floats in the air. Crashing across the bleak wasteland comes a hellish ocean,Consuming the disposed remain of tires,They fuel its infernal wrath.The flames grow.The heat rises.Chaos.Destruction. From the fire colossal plumes of smoke rise,Exploding…

    admin

    2026-06-28
    Art, Poetry
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