Dispatches from the Void. X.II

This week brought cobbled streets, cursed arcades, and a ceramic cat at the till. But beneath the joy—rage. We write about Gaza, grief, and why we’re building an unapologetically human, justice-fuelled flash anthology called Salt in the Wound. Because silence is complicity. And we are not quiet people.

Poe ‘Vices

This week in Poe’vices, democracy is a concept, Beyoncé is a celestial being, and Poe is here to remind us that snacks are sacred and immunity is a vibe.

Accompanied by the release of the Diplomatic Immunity™ Chicken Dip Plate Set, Poe offers spicy wisdom, poultry-based policy, and unsolicited legal commentary.

The verdict?
Shut up. Sit down. Eat chickens.
You’re not Beyoncé.

Poe ‘Vices

They chose layout over love. Fonts over family. You? They left you on read.

Introducing the Zine Abandonments Recovery Kits™ — for cats discarded in the name of literary pursuit.
Includes a tear-absorbent blankie, guilt-activated chicken button, and the dignity you were denied.

Because this isn’t a phase. It’s emotional print neglect.

Poe ‘Vices

“He named himself after big cats? Leo Kings of the universes. Wooooah.”

This week, Poe responds to a panicked Traditionalist who fears the Pope has gone soft—and possibly woke. Enter: the velvet-draped feline theologian, riding a golden chicken straight through the Vatican. The Clucksmobile is real. And so is the chaos.

Poe ‘Vices

Rocket dads, data bros, and misfired masculinity — this week, Poe responds to a reader haunted by a billionaire father who’d rather launch a car into space than love his trans child. With trademark sass, sorrow, and chicken-based resistance, Poe reminds us: your soul can’t be trademarked.