I write what refuses silence
· Journal
November 2025 — quiet, low light, the year finally sitting still long enough to show me what it added up to. The apartment feeling like home at last, and December already offering something worth looking forward to.
Paired Poem
Tell Me the Darkness
· Mentorship
You are doing something brave. You are writing honestly, which means you are making yourself visible in a world that often punishes visibility. That is, in fact, a very large thing.
Paired Poem
Fire Tree
· Journal
The U-Haul was August. September was the part that comes after — settling in, figuring out the couch placement, and the Land Ladies making sure it all felt like landing somewhere instead of just stopping.
Paired Poem
Shards of Serenity
· Life & Place
I was near the Jemez Mountains the summer a wildfire moved through. I watched from distance as a hillside I'd hiked became something else entirely. And I kept thinking: something is happening here that isn't only destruction.
Paired Poem
Roaring Silhouettes
· Life & Place
In August 2025, I housesat for Tish & Dave in Cerrillos, wrote in the high desert, and found exactly the stillness that gave Echoes in the Desert Homestead room to arrive.
Paired Poem
Echoes in the Desert Homestead
· Travel Journal
Returning to Santa Fe in August 2025 was less a victory lap than a reckoning: difficult months behind me, familiar light ahead of me, and the first real sense that home could begin doing its work again.
Paired Poem
A New Dawn in Your Journey
· Relationships
July 2025 clarified friendships and boundaries: who could hold the hard truth with me, who preferred the polished version, and what honesty cost or protected in that season.
Paired Poem
Echoes of Harmony
· Reading
I do not recommend Rilke at 3 a.m. unless you are prepared to feel things you don't have vocabulary for and then lie awake doing inventory on your life. I recommend him anyway.
Paired Poem
Echoes in the Gale
· Reflection
I looked at a photograph from ten years ago recently. Same face, more or less. But something fundamentally different in the eyes — the absence of certain urgencies I used to carry everywhere.
Paired Poem
In the Hush of Dawn, Metamorphosis