An artist and writer submerged in the subterranean energies that bloom in darkness, Shem Shelley died many years ago—torn apart by some malignant gust of wind in blinding daylight.

Although long gone from this globe, Shem Shelley’s twomb words can still reach us from whatever strange plane of non-existence they find themselves in.

Read Shem’s words in the monthly zine FROM UTOPIA and ingest an immoral dose of black & white & weird, if you dare…