4/16/2025 (listen on youtube) Sing of the shattering— the shadowed abyss of despair. Sing of endless hungry nights snatching soul-deep. Sing of the chasm where hope once lived, where shame has swallowed the light. Sing of the shards (past and future) sharp as the sounds slicing psyche into ragged strips of pain. Sing of the silence, sitting stone-heavy on your tongue suffocating searing slipping into the void. Sing over the splintered shards shuttering within your heart’s cag

Golden-crowned kinglet Flickering from twig to twig Barely a whisper of movement— A sliver of sound in the silence. In the darkness and...

My muse isn’t the meandering mist over mountain streams; bright on a sharp morning. My muse isn’t the rippling song of a twilight thrush;...

(Originally published on Medium, 7/14/2019) We are pilgrims from a small world. We’re afraid of our mothers, our lovers, and each other....