“I am just a tiny tick,

a pebble on the sidewalk.

At best I am a mirror

of the things that you disdain.”

Poetry is a picture of life in the fanciest way of expression. When poetry marches along with painting, it becomes a grand festival to celebrate.

Grab a slim copy of “End of Earth,” poems by Nolcha Fox and illustrations by Mike Armstrong, and you will experience a stellar fusion. In this eclectic collection, you will enjoy the ceremony of words and images in perfect harmony. Nolcha Fox’s pen matches perfectly with Mike Armstrong’s brush strokes to explore the nuanced landscape of human emotions.

In her economic yet evocative pen, Fox has introduced her readers to a new Earth—a dreary Earth full of storms and silence, pretensions and betrayal, determination, and resilience. Here, love is cherished in parts, and fallen angels seek breadcrumbs.

Nolcha’s imagination works far-fetched invoking a witty resolution to her dark pathos. Existential awareness adds an extra layer to her introspective journey where the poetess and the poem wallow on the same bed, sipping coffee from the same kitchen and words get scribbled on wrinkled pages.

Nolcha’s style of writing is unique and untraditional. I enjoy her experimentation with stanzas and titles. Some titles are parts of the first line of the poem, detached and marked in bold to highlight. The thought continues from the title. This variety makes the reading experience engaging and enjoyable.

Mike Armstrong’s abstract brush strokes resonate perfectly with the pictorial vibrancy of Nolcha’s words. This collaborative approach complements the poetic structures and themes.

I like to recommend this book to all the book lovers specifically to those who love to relish the vibrancy of life most poetically. Though one can read the book in a single sitting, each poem demands engagement, reflection, and the courage to face the brutal truth. These free verses celebrate variegated emotions and interplay of imagery. Cynicism catches the image of vultures waiting to feast on the carcasses. At the backdrop of a citrus sunset, someone preserves the warmth of love in sharing an orange, half. Sun emerges like a bulky woman kissing the mountains. Unrequited love is represented by a red poppy flower aimed as a bullet to the soulless shell that bounces it off. Fox’s poetry is like fragments of images, poignant glimpses of human existence, uncomfortable yet honest. If you are ready to assemble those fragments of expression and fill the silence between what is said and left unsaid, then this book is for you. Read this book as a challenge, as a puzzle, as a brazen explosion of human vulnerability.

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