I write what refuses silence
· On Writing
April 2026 became a month of return: same desk, same town, cleaner attention, and the kind of focus that gets rebuilt through repetition rather than force.
Paired Poem
Light from the Shadows
· On Writing
March 2026 stayed rooted in Santa Fe: early pages, medical follow-through, slower revision, and a steadier writing life than the season looked like from the outside.
Paired Poem
The Quiet Spark Within
· Life & Place
The chamisa is still gray. The bosque along the acequia looks like charcoal drawings of itself. The mornings are cold enough that my coffee goes lukewarm before I finish it.
Paired Poem
The Serenity of Reflection
· On Writing
There is a particular anxiety that happens when a poem is nearly done. Not when it's a mess — that's a different anxiety. This is the finishing anxiety: the fear that the last revision will be the wrong one.
Paired Poem
Resilience's Gem
· Journal
Journal notes for December 2025 aligned to the matching poem and image from that month.
Paired Poem
The Fleeting Arc
· 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