"her constellations" 

Her constellations are bite-sized galaxies of feeling,  

each cluster a starfield guiding fingertips  

across cool stone beneath the hush of night air.  

“Lantern in the fog” becomes Polaris—  

steady beacon anchoring a mind adrift  

amid the distant hum of restless streets.  

Swipe, scroll, tap—  

three morning prayers in digital chord,...

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Evening Benediction at the Tide

The tide returns in sculpted prayers

over broken shells,

etching covenant beneath gull-scarred skies.

I press my palm to driftwood—

a liturgy in grain, fibers carved by centuries

of salt and forgiveness.

Salt water heals old fractures in the stones,

and on their ancient skin I lay down my grief,

each wave a footnote of merc...

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There was a time
     when you used to confide in me
     shared the innermost stirring of your heart;
     when you used to feel safe in me,
     entrusted what others couldn't hear out loud.

There was a time
     when we were close enough,
     nourished a friendship pure and free;
     when nothing outside bothered,
     heard the fellowship of the soul.

There was a ti...

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Morning mist drapes each blossom  
like a bride reluctant to wake.  
Petals fall in silent confession—  
memory’s hush in every drift.  

Roots hold secrets of laughter and tears,  
a debt of seasons owed to shadows.  
Soon, steel will bite bark and bloom  
and these ghosts will scatter on the wind.  




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You think I don’t still feel it? 
The echo never left. 
It’s in the light that spills 
across the floor like we used to—
chaotic, accidental, warm.

Yes, I heard every word 
you didn’t mean and the silence 
that swallowed what we couldn’t say.

Time doesn’t rewind, but it replays. 
Not in full—just flashes. 
Your laugh— like a match 
right before the burn.

I wish we’d argued soft...

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